


Secret Keeper

by Neuropsyche



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Peter has powers but no one knows but him and he is not Spiderman, Tony is Ironman, dad!peter, male/male sex and all that goes with that, mention of extremely dubious underage sex - not between Tony and Peter, mention of underaged sex, minor character death - no one we know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:15:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 49
Words: 76,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27198368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neuropsyche/pseuds/Neuropsyche
Summary: Interesting things happen when fantasy and reality eventually collide
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 290
Kudos: 454





	1. Chapter 1

_“A new update has just posted to Secret Keeper.”_

Tony Stark looked up, pulling off the safety goggles that he’d been wearing while grinding a rough patch of metal on the newest incarnation of his robot helper. This one remained without a name, thus far, and he honestly didn’t know what he would really use it for, but he loved to build them, and it kept him from being forced to go to meetings – most of the time.

“It did? _Yes_!” He set the tool down and hurried over to the other table, where he’d left his tablet. “Please be naughty, please be naughty…”

_“I took the liberty of perusing it,”_ FRIDAY told him. _“Would you like me to tell-“_

“No,” Tony interrupted his AI, already bringing up the fanfiction website. “Don’t spoil it.”

He sat down as he tabbed his favorite story – honestly one of the very few that he was following, and easily the best that he’d ever read – and fell silent as he read the chapter that had just posted. And then read it, again. And one more time for good measure. Then he groaned.

“ _What’s wrong?”_ FRIDAY asked. “ _I thought you’d enjoy it. There is plenty of descriptive sex.”_

“Oh, I enjoyed it,” he agreed. “But now I have to wait for the next update – and it could be _days_.”

Tony hadn’t even really known fanfiction existed until a reporter had asked him for his reaction to the fact that there were all kinds of fanfiction stories being written about him and the Avengers. Unwilling – and maybe not even _able_ – to admit that he didn’t know something, he’d simply said that he was flattered, and left it that, not knowing whether he’d insulted someone or had complimented them.

Then he’d gone to his office after the press conference and had begun doing some research.

He’d still been sitting at his desk hours later, pouring through some of the stories that he’d found. Most were badly written porn. The wet dreams of guys (or women) who had the hots for Romanoff, or himself, or any of the other Avengers and weren’t shy about putting those impure thoughts down in print for all to read. Tony had learned about tags, quickly, because he didn’t care about the fantasized love life of Natasha Romanoff, or Steve Rogers (although there were some pretty steamy stories of him and Rogers that he’d found and skimmed through). He certainly didn’t want to read the stories about him and the Hulk, or him and Thor. He liked Banner, and admired Thor, but he didn’t want either of them in his bed – and he definitely didn’t want the _Hulk_ there – on top or on bottom.

Green wasn’t his color.

Once he had figured out tags, it became a little easier to find the kind of story that was most interesting, although he still skimmed through most of them as trite, or boring, or simply a good quick story with no plot but a lot of heavy fucking. Those weren’t bad, sometimes, and Tony had eventually jerked off to more than one of them. But the ones that were the most interesting to him were the ones that he could tell the writer was trying to actually tell a story.

They weren’t always that great; he found the spelling or grammar errors to be annoying, sometimes, but some put him – Tony Stark, also known as _Ironman_ – into some sexy yummy positions with OCs who were filled out with enough details that Tony was willing to slow down and actually read the story, and not only for the hot and heavy sex. There was some plot, a lot of angst at times and the domesticity that he secretly yearned for but knew he’d never be able to have for himself in real life. They didn’t always have happy endings, and they didn’t always have endings that satisfied him, but a few did – and he’d found one that had drawn him in before he’d realized that it was a work in progress and incomplete and he would have to wait to find out how it ended.

The guy who wrote it (he assumed it was guy since the writer’s pseudonym was _Babyboi21_ ) updated more frequently than many did – one of the reasons that Stark hated getting trapped into reading a work in progress was that the writers sometimes completely abandoned their stories – but this one was so good that he hated waiting, even a minute longer than he needed. One of the reasons that FRIDAY always monitored the site so he could tell Tony when an update came out.

_“It’s good for you,”_ the AI told him. _“You’re too impatient, sometimes.”_

Tony scowled.

“I don’t need a lecture,” he complained, leaning back in the comfortable leather of his chair. “I need to know how it _ends_.”

_“It doesn’t appear to have been completed, yet,”_ FRIDAY told him.

“I can see that,” Tony replied, starting to turn off the tablet in annoyance, but then reading the newest update, once more.

The story was more based around Tony Stark than anything to do with Ironman, and it was a different premise than most. There was a younger guy (nothing new there, but Tony liked his men younger than him – _much_ younger, although he didn’t know how these writers seemed to know it) who was hiding a secret away from everyone – including his friends. A secret that he didn’t want anyone to know. It couldn’t be anything too bad, Tony had figured, already, even when he’d only been a couple of chapters in. The young guy was kind-hearted and a technical genius. He was out of college at twenty-three and interning for – you guessed it – _Stark Industries_.

Tony had snorted. If the tower had as many interns as these people wrote about, he wouldn’t have room for any of the scientists, or the executives – much less all the janitors and lunch ladies. But the premise was sound, and the young man had caught Tony’s eye. Not by doing anything amazing, just by walking by and smelling good. That had made the fictional Tony Stark follow him long enough to learn his name, slowly begin to stalk him and finally approach him one stormy evening to offer him a ride home that had ended in a very sweet and sexy scene on the young man’s couch.

Stark had read that scene several times and had it memorized by the time he’d walked into the shower to clean himself of the smear of cum that had painted his belly and chest. Once clean, he’d jerked off, again, just for good measure and because it felt so right. Now the fictional Tony Stark had somehow found himself in an actual relationship that revolved around a lot of hot sex with this younger guy, but also had a bit of domestic bliss in it, as well. Something the real Tony Stark had very little hope for, but Jesus, he loved the idea, didn’t he?

Enough that he read the story from beginning to the end of every new update, and waited impatiently for the next.

_“I haven’t been able to find any archive of writing,”_ FRIDAY told him. _“So it appears that he writes as he posts.”_

Tony was distracted by the last chapter, and it took him a moment to realize what his AI was telling him.

“Wait. What? You know who this writer is?”

_“Of course.”_

Of course.

“Is it a guy?”

_“A young man named Peter.”_

A picture replaced the chapter on the display, and Tony found himself looking at a young guy who couldn’t be older than twenty-five – and almost certainly not even that – with brown, wavy hair, and intelligent, brown eyes. Beautiful brown eyes. He felt a flare of excitement, but damped it down, immediately with a sigh.

“I guess it’s not like I can just show up on his doorstep,” he said, moodily. “And demand that he tells me what comes next.”

_“It would certainly be unnerving,”_ FRIDAY agreed.

The billionaire looked at the photo.

“Where is he, FRIDAY? Maybe I can take a business trip and ‘accidentally’ bump into him.”

_“Here.”_

“In the States?”

_“In New York. Queens, to be exact.”_

“Really?”

That was convenient.

At least, it would be if he had any idea how to use that fact to his advantage and find out what happens next.

_“You could just wait until he writes his next update…”_ FRIDAY pointed out.

“I know.”

But he probably wasn’t going to do that, now was he?


	2. 2

Peter Parker started when his phone beeped at him, and he dropped the pencil he was holding, guiltily. He smiled, feeling ridiculous, and picked the pencil up, again, before he answered the phone.

“Hey, Roger.”

_“Hi, Pete. How are you doing?”_

“Good. Thanks.”

_“Are you busy?”_

Peter shook his head, even though his editor couldn’t see the motion.

“No. just doing some sketching.”

_“For the new book?”_

The young man looked down at the drawing he was working on. A very detailed sketch of Tony Stark without a shirt on and a distended bulge in the front of the slacks that he was wearing. Peter was pretty good at drawing the billionaire. He’d done it a lot the last year or so.

“No,” he replied. “Just a side project.”

_“Anything interesting?”_

“Nothing _you’d_ be interested in,” Peter assured him.

Definitely something that he was, though.

_“The book signing is tomorrow,” the_ voice on the other end of the call reminded Peter. _“Want me to come get you?”_

“No. I need to drop Parker with his aunt, first. I’ll get an Uber and meet you there.”

_“At four-thirty, in the children’s section,”_ his editor reminded him. _“There are probably going to be a million little kids and frazzled parents. You should bring Parker with you. It’ll make all the women there swoon, you know that.”_

Peter smiled.

He did know it.

“No. He’s better off as far from that as I can keep him for as long as I can keep him there.”

_“He’s not going to be adorable like that forever,”_ his friend told him. _“You should use those big brown eyes of his to find yourself the perfect guy. There’ll probably be a few single dads there, too, I imagine.”_

“He’s going to be adorable until he’s fifty,” Peter replied. “I’ll be there at four-fifteen.”

_“Alright. Call me if you need anything.”_

“Thanks.”

He ended his call and set his cell aside, looking back down at the drawing. Tony Stark wasn’t alone it in, after all, and Peter bit his lower lip, lightly, as he began to sketch, again, feeling an ache in his chest and his groin as he quickly fleshed out a fair representation of himself behind the older man, hands coming around his hips to rest on Stark’s pelvis. Jesus, he was going to have to take a cold shower if he wanted to get any _real_ work done that evening, wasn’t he?

The faint sound from the baby monitor drew his attention, and he smiled at the image on the display. Setting the pencil down, he picked up the paper and carefully stashed it in the same manilla folder that held several others, and then put it in his file drawer, locking it automatically, even though there wasn’t anyone to worry about finding it. Then he got to his feet and walked into the other room.

“Hey…” Peter smiled, tenderly, at the big, brown eyes that were looking up at him. “You’re supposed to be _asleep_.”

There wasn’t an answer, but the little boy smiled at the gentle tone and lifted his arms in a not so subtle request to be picked up. A request that Peter complied with, immediately. He reached down, plucking the child from the toddler bed, and pulling him into his arms, blanket and all.

“You might be a little _spoiled_ , big man,” Peter crooned as he carried his son into the living room and settled on the couch rather than at his desk. “What do you think?”

Again there wasn’t a response. Peter always hoped, but he held a lot of one-sided conversations with his three-year old son. He didn’t mind. Parker was perfect, despite the fact that he didn’t speak. He cleared all the physicals and examinations and tests that the pediatrician gave him, and there wasn't anything wrong with his cognitive abilities, or his reflexes. He was in the upper percentile of all of the tests that had been given him. He just didn’t have anything to say, yet.

“Are you _sleepy_?” he asked, brushing a kiss against the boy’s cheek.

Parker shook his head, smiling, sleepily, and rested his cheek against Peter’s neck for a moment, before moving so he could look at him.

“No?” The young man smiled, too. “Should I read you a story?”

Again the little boy shook his head, but his eyes were excited. Peter knew the look well.

“You want me to _tell_ you a story, instead?”

Parker nodded, settling in now that he’d made his wishes clear.

“Do you want a Jack and Snaps story?”

The boy’s smile made Peter smile, and he tightened his grip just a little, hugging him and once more being amazed at the fact that he had helped create someone so incredible.

“Close your eyes,” he told his son, shifting him to make sure that he was comfortable. “And I’ll tell you about Jack and Snap going to the moon.”

Parker did as he was told, and Peter hesitated for just a moment, thinking of a new story to tell, centered around the two characters that his son loved the most. Characters that Peter had made up years ago, and made a good living writing about. He brushed his fingers through Parker’s wavy hair that was so similar to his own, and kissed his temple, for good measure. Then he turned on a recorder – just in case it turned out to be a good story – and started telling it. The boy sighed into the skin on Peter’s neck, and was still.

Parker was asleep before the rocket ship made out of the refrigerator box even launched into space, but Peter wasn’t in any hurry to put him back to bed, so he finished the story.

Only then did he turn off the recorder, bundle his son into his arms, easily, and stand up. The young man carried the child back to his little bed, tucked him in warmly, and then returned to his desk. His hand hesitated over the handle to the top drawer, but then he sighed, and turned off the light. The next day was going to be a busy one, and he didn’t want to be grumpy and tired when facing a room filled with eager little kids and their parents.

He did pull up the webpage for the fanfiction site that he posted on, curiously checking to see if there were any comments on the latest update to the story he was working on. Unlike the Jack and Snaps stories, this one was definitely not geared for children, and he’d have been appalled if any parent had it on their child’s approved list. There were a few comments. Most were positive, which pleased the writer and storyteller in him, even though he didn’t actually _know_ any of those people. Some where people that had been following him almost as long as he’d been writing the fanfiction, though, and these familiar strangers were always the ones that he tried to gear his stories to. A newer follower, simply named AESFRIDAY, had posted, again, praising the newest update and lamenting that he/she? Would have to wait for the next to see what happens.

Peter simply smiled. He didn’t actually know what happened, next, but when he’d decided, everyone else would find out along with him. He thought about turning his focus to that next update, but it had been a long day, and he was tired. Parker would be up, early, climbing into his bed and sitting on his chest, looking down at him and silently telling him that he was hungry.

Peter couldn’t wait.

He went to bed, instead.


	3. 3

“I must be out of my mind…”

The billionaire looked around the room, making sure to stay in an out of the way corner and to keep the hat brim low and his glasses on to avoid allowing anyone a chance to recognize him. Of course, at the moment there had to be forty children of various ages running around the huge bookstore, and easily that many adults chasing them.

_“His writings are very popular,”_ FRIDAY said, softly in his ear, watching everything that he was seeing through his glasses.

“I thought print was dead.”

Clearly not, though, because the bookstore was busy, and there were many bright displays, and not only in the children’s section where Tony was. The rest of the store seemed to be doing just fine, but at the moment, it was the children’s section that had the majority of patrons. They were gathering around a large display of children’s books. A series of them – written by one Peter Benjamin Parker. Tony had picked one up as he walked in the door and headed for the corner that he was in, now, but he didn’t really need to read it. He’d done his research at home, the evening before.

The series – and there were several – followed the adventures of a young boy named Jack and his dog Snaps. All imaginary and not really that interesting, as far as Stark was concerned, but he wasn’t a little kid, now, was he? They all seemed to love it, to judge by how many had actually been brought for a book signing to celebrate the most recent one being released. Tony decided that Parker was a smart guy, too, because while the kid in the story was a boy – making it an adventure for all the little boys who read it – Snaps the dog was a female, and she was a saucy little terrier type dog who was the brains behind the duo, and that was a good way to appeal to little girls, too, he supposed. Twice the books sold that way.

Pretty genius, really.

_“Children will always want someone to read to them,”_ FRIDAY pointed out, sagely.

Tony shrugged at that; the experience he had with children could easily fit inside the book that he was holding – with plenty of room to spare.

“How long do you think this is going to take?” he asked, softly, pretending to be looking through the shelves when a couple of kids and their mom (or nanny?) came is direction.

His initial plan had been to show up, wait for things to slow down and then sidle up to Parker somewhat nonchalantly, and mention that maybe he should go home and write the next chapter of his fanfiction story. Now he decided, with some chagrin, that he’d underestimated how many people came to these things, and was debating whether or not to just leave and ambush Parker, later. Not at his place, because FRIDAY had vetoed that idea the night before. Something about it possibly freaking the author out and maybe making him panic at the thought of being stalked.

Tony hadn’t been so sure, of course. He was Tony Stark, after all, and not Jack the Ripper. Besides, he was famous and the guy obviously liked writing porn about him. If he played it right, he might be able to get the whole story – including whatever happy ending there was planned. He’d listened to FRIDAY, eventually, though – she was kind of the Snaps to his Jack, he supposed, somewhat sourly – and now here he was; waiting on the edge of a crowd of little kids for a chance to talk to someone who was probably going to end up going fanboy on him and wouldn’t be able to speak in complete sentences.

Stark saw it all the time, after all.

He decided to go ahead and leave, and maybe stay somewhere nearby – that was less crowded – while he waited, and began to put the book down, but then the crowd started murmuring and there was a bit of a stir near the far entrance to the kids’ section and Peter Parker himself walked into the room. Tony stopped in mid motion, watching. He knew what the guy looked like; his picture was on the display – and had been on the display in Tony’s place the evening before, after all – but they both must have been phot-shopped, because there was no way Parker was twenty-one.

He looked like he was seventeen.

“Jesus…” Tony muttered.

_“Problem?”_ FRIDAY asked, and damned if her voice didn’t sound amused at his reaction.

Of course, she knew that Tony was very much drawn to younger men, and Peter Parker was young. And fucking the epitome of the word twink, which made Tony twitch, just a moment, in his silk boxers. He watched as the writer smiled a greeting to the people who were waiting for him, holding a hand up toward them, but smiling down at the children with a tenderness in his expression that Tony could see from even back in the corner.

“He’s delicious…”

Usually a picture was designed to make someone look better – that was the whole point of photoshop, right? But when Tony glanced at the picture of Peter Parker, he decided that it had been photoshopped, alright, but it had been done to make the young man look a bit older. It wasn’t flattering, by any means, and Tony turned his attention back to the live version, who was now thanking everyone for showing up.

Another man, older, and more authoritative, came to stand beside Peter, and started directing people into a line so they could get started with the book signing. As Peter Parker moved to sit behind the table and the crowd lined up to meet him, and talk to him, Tony Stark hid himself behind the display as well as he could and watched.

And waited.

><><><>

It was just over an hour and a half later when Peter signed the last book. He shook his aching hand and smiled at the little girl who was reading the inside of the jacket, happily, as her mother led her out of the now almost deserted children’s book section.

“That went well,” his publicist said from the seat beside him.

There were still some copies of the newest book unsold and sitting on the table – but not very many.

“I’m glad you approve,” Peter said, good-naturedly.

Of course, Roger wasn’t the one with the sore fingers and dry throat, now, was he?

“Buy you dinner?”

“No. I’m going home.”

“Is Parker staying at his aunt’s, tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Then come over. We never get to hang out.”

“Because you’re married and it wouldn’t kill you to actually spend time with your family when the opportunity comes up.”

His friend shrugged.

“Linda likes you. We could have dinner, maybe a few drinks… to celebrate.”

Peter shook his head.

“I’m going to pass, thanks. I have a new story to start writing out.”

“A Jack and Snaps one?”

“Yes.”

“Then go home, by all means.” The man stood up. “I’ll go have some drinks without you.”

“Tell Linda hello for me.”

“I will.”

Peter stood up, nodding a thank you to the book store manager for his patience, and then turned toward the rear entrance, preferring it over the front door. And suddenly found his way blocked.

“Mr. Parker…”

He knew the voice – of course. Everyone did. Even with the glasses and the hat and the collar turned up a little to block his features, the young man had no trouble recognizing who it was, although he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Peter stopped short.

“Jesus.”

Stark smirked.

“I get that a lot. But, no.”

“You’re _Tony Stark_.”

“Yes. But keep your voice down, will you?” The billionaire looked around, but the room was pretty much empty, now. It had been a long time, though, and he was tired of standing around – and definitely tired of waiting his turn. “I’m incognito.”

“What are you doing here?” Peter asked, still shocked, and not even trying to hide it.

“I’m a big fan of your work,” was the reply.

“You read my books?” Peter asked, uncertainly, glancing at the book that the older man was holding. “ _Really_?”

“No,” Tony said. “Not the books. Your _other_ work…”

“I don’t have any other works,” Peter said. “Unless you mean my thesis, which-“

“The _Secret Keeper_ thing,” Tony interrupted.

“The…” Peter realized what he was talking about. His eyes widened, slightly, and his ears reddened. “Seriously? You know that story?”

“I do. And it’s driving me crazy.”


	4. 4

“Why?” Peter asked, so surprised that he was able to ignore the fact that Tony freaking _Stark_ was standing in front of him. Right there. If he _wanted_ to, he could reach out and touch him. Could poke him in the chest. His eyes went to the man’s chest, looking for the arc reactor, but not seeing it through the dark fabric of the shirt and the light sweatshirt that he was wearing. He looked up, again. “You don’t like it?”

“Can we go somewhere _else_?” Tony asked, abruptly, looking over Peter’s shoulder at a couple of people who were looking their way – and probably trying to decide if he was really Tony Stark, or just someone who looked a lot like him. “Maybe I could buy you a cup of coffee…?”

“What? Oh. No.”

“ _No_?” Tony repeated, unable to keep the surprise out of his expression. “ _Seriously_?”

“I’m _tired_ ,” Peter told him. “And I have a million things to do.” He didn’t have that many afternoons where Parker wasn’t home, really, and there was plenty that he could be working on at the house. “Why don’t you like my story?”

He had to know. He was a professional writer, after all.

“I didn’t say I didn’t _like_ it,” Stark replied, frowning. He hadn’t really expected his invitation to be refused. Who writes hot, sexy, porn about a guy and then turns down a chance to hang out with him? “How about I take you home with me and make you dinner?”

Peter frowned, now.

“You want to take me home…? Seriously? You don’t think that sounds a little creepy? I don’t even know you – and you don’t know me. What are you _thinking_?”

Tony rolled his eyes.

“I’m thinking I don’t want to stand in a bookstore – in the kid’s section – and talk about porn with you, here. Since you don’t want to go get a cup of coffee with me, that limits my options. I don’t want to hang out here any longer than I already have, and I’m certainly not going to suggest that you take me to your place. _That_ would be creepy.”

“Yes, it would.”

“Well?”

“No. You can buy me a cup of coffee, instead, I suppose.”

“Great. Did you drive?”

“No. I took a cab.”

“Then we can take my car.”

“We’re back to _creepy_.”

“Jesus, Mr. Parker. You’re an annoying shit, aren’t you?”

“I’m not the one that could be a _serial killer_ , now am I?” Peter asked. “How do I know you’re not going to drive me to a secluded place and kill me? Or _eat_ me, or something?”

“I’m Tony Stark.”

“I know.”

“I’m not going to eat you.”

“Which is almost _certainly_ what a cannibal would say…” the young man pointed out. “Next thing you know, I’m being dished up on a hoagie roll with some potato salad and being speculated about on Unsolved Mysteries.”

Tony had force himself not to smile at that logic, reminding himself that he was still trying to get out of the store – preferably with some kind of commitment from the young writer.

“Do you have a way around this impasse?”

“There’s a coffee shop on the north end of this block,” Peter told him. “I’d be willing to meet you there, in ten minutes.”

“And you’ll let me buy you a cup of coffee?”

“Sure.”

“Fine. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

He turned and walked out of the rear door, leaving Peter still standing next to the display, hardly believing what had just happened. But he didn’t stand there, long. He had no idea what was going on, but Tony Stark smelled good. That right there was a reason enough to meet with him – and Peter definitely wanted to know how the man had found out about his fanfiction, and was maybe a little nervous about discussing it – for obvious reasons. He shook his head, but headed outside, too.

.<><><><>><

Peter beat Stark to the coffee shop.

Tony had to stop at his car and pay for more parking, while Peter was able to simply walk over. He stopped, uncertainly, at the door and then waited outside the entrance. Peter wasn’t so famous that people recognized _him_ on sight, mostly, but he knew that Stark was – and the man had already pointed out that he didn’t want to be accosted by the public.

He was leaning against the small wire fence that cordoned off the coffee shop’s outside patio when Stark walked up.

“Did you order, yet?”

“I was waiting for you.”

“Let’s go.”

Stark put a hand on the small of Peter’s back, and opened the door with the other hand.

“I _can_ buy my own coffee, you know,” Peter told him as they walked up to the counter. “I do have money.”

“Too late,” Stark told him. “I already offered, and you accepted.”

The younger man shrugged, and then turned his attention to the woman behind the counter who was waiting for their order.

“Fine, then you can buy me a _sandwich_ , too.”

“I could do that.”

Tony ordered a sandwich, also, and the two carried their sandwiches and coffees out to the patio, finding a secluded corner out of the way of the few people that were there enjoying the last sunshine of the day.

“So you read my story?” Peter asked, sitting down.

He wasn’t one to beat around the bush.

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I’ve been _reading_ since I was three,” Tony replied. “It’s not that amazing.”

Now it was Peter who rolled his eyes.

“I meant, how did you find my story?”

“I found out about fanfiction and started reading some of it. Some are crap. _Yours_ is hot.”

The young man smiled, unable to help but be pleased at the compliment. It _was_ Tony Stark, after all.

“Thanks. I mean, I haven’t been writing it long. I didn’t know there was such a thing, really, until a guy in one of my creative writing classes submitted an excerpt of his Castle fanfiction, and our professor told him that he needed to rethink his decision. It wasn’t literature and he wasn’t going to accept it as such.”

Tony smiled, too.

“What happened?”

“There was a heated debate, and it was interesting enough to me that I went looking for examples.”

“Of Avenger fanfiction?”

“No. I found vampires and werewolves, first – mostly written by teenaged girls, most likely.”

“Ugh.”

Tony had found some of that, too.

Peter nodded.

“Right? It was awful. The more mature stuff was a lot more interesting, though.”

“Yeah.” He took a bite of his sandwich. “So you decided to write some?”

“I thought I’d give it a try,” Peter said. “Not for _class_ , but just because I’d seen a couple of movies, didn’t like the way they ended and wrote my own endings.”

“And the Avenger stuff?”

Those were really the stories that interested Tony.

“It came, later. I was better at it, by then.”

“ _And_ a famous writer in your own right.”

Peter smiled.

“I got lucky. One of the guys in one of my classes has a mom who is an editor and she invited me to visit them on Spring break, once. Her grandson was being grumpy, so I made up a story to amuse him and she was impressed.”

“Serendipity.”

“Absolutely.” The young man couldn’t help the smugness in his expression and tone. “I was published before I graduated.”

“Impressive.” He meant it, too. “Why did you start writing Avenger stuff?”

“Are you kidding?” Peter shook his head. “Sexy, billionaire, superhero businessman? And a real person? Captain America in the flesh? Beautiful Russian spy? That’s gold.”

Stark preened.

“You think I’m sexy?”

Peter flushed, and Tony felt himself twitch. Jesus. The younger man was sexy as fuck.

“It’s a popular opinion,” he pointed out.

“You didn’t answer the question,” Stark said, smiling at the discomfiture he was exhibiting and thoroughly enjoying himself.

And not just because Peter was stroking his ego in every way possible.

“I’m going to take the 5th on that,” Peter said. “What did you mean when you said my story is driving you crazy?”

“It isn’t finished.”

“No.”

“I need to know what happens.”

“Oh.”

“Oh? What does that mean?”

“It isn’t finished,” Peter told him.

Stark rolled his eyes.

“I just said that, Parker. What happens?”

Peter smiled.

“I don’t know, yet.”

Tony made an annoyed noise.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I mean I haven’t figured it out, yet. I write the story as it comes into my head.”


	5. 5

“What?”

There was a wry chuckle.

“It drives my publisher crazy, too. I do it with the children’s books that I write, too.”

“You just make them up as you go along?”

“Yup.”

“Don’t you need to make an outline, or something?”

Tony wasn't an expert, but he was pretty sure that was how they’d made him do that kind of thing in the few writing classes that he’d taken, back in his school days.

“Apparently not,” Peter replied. “I know that it works for most people, but I don’t write like that. I’m a bit more formal with the books,” he added. “I’ll make the story up, and I’ll work out anything that I don’t like – or add things in. With the fanfiction, though, I just post it an update at a time, writing as I go.”

“Well… what do _you_ think is going to happen?” Stark pressed.

“In general? Or are you wanting specifics?”

Tony scowled.

“Are you doing this on purpose?”

“Doing what?”

“Making me grovel.”

Peter lost his amused expression, and Tony realized that, no, he hadn’t been doing it on purpose.

“I didn’t realize that you were,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted. Now… what is Kyle’s secret?”

“What?”

“The secret that your protagonist is hiding from the fictional me – and all the rest of the people in his life. What is it? Or are you winging that, too?”

“You’re really invested in this story, aren’t you?” Peter asked, looking somewhat surprised – and a little awed.

“Yes, you little shit. You sucked me in with the character development and plot and now I’m hanging on each stupid line, waiting breathlessly for another update.”

His expression wasn’t as annoyed as his words, and Peter smiled, realizing that he wasn't really angry.

Maybe a bit chagrined?

He was a real-life superhero, after all, Peter decided, and probably not used to being on the fanboy side of things, very often – if ever. Maybe he looked up to Thor? Or Captain America?

“Do you really want me to tell you?” he asked. “It’ll spoil the big reveal when it happens.”

“I _like_ spoilers. Tell me.”

“He has superpowers.”

Tony stared at him.

“What?”

“Kyle has superpowers.”

“What? Like he can fly? Or shoot laser beams?”

“It won’t be quite that dramatic,” Peter assured him. “But something like that, yes. Non ordinary abilities.”

“He’s a _superhero_?”

Tony was shocked, and was also excited. He had to admit that the kid in the story was someone that he, himself, might really have fallen for – young, cute, brilliant, and available – and he was learning something completely unexpected about him.

“Not a superhero,” Peter corrected. “He has some abilities, but he’s not really superhero material, so he hides them.”

Stark frowned.

“Why would he do that? He could be famous.”

Peter noticed that the billionaire didn’t say anything about saving the world or anything, but he knew enough from his research – and what he had seen on TV and in the press – that Tony Stark was a fairly self-centered person, and a showman. True, he’d saved the world from the aliens at the risk of his own life – which was amazing, as far as Peter was concerned – but that wasn’t second nature for him. It was something that had needed to be done, and Stark had done it.

It meant there was more to the man than he showed the world – another reason Peter crushed on him, hard – but he wasn't surprised that the guy thought about fame before philanthropy.

“He doesn’t want to be famous.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not his thing, I guess.”

“Huh.”

Peter finished eating his sandwich, watching as Stark clearly struggled with that idea.

“It isn’t for everyone,” he said. “Some people need to be the little unknown person behind the scenes.”

“I guess.” Tony chewed another bite of his sandwich. “So… does he tell him what he can do?”

“Eventually. How do you think the Tony Stark in the story would react?”

The billionaire’s eyes lit up.

“You’re asking me to be a consultant for the story?”

“Who better?” Peter pointed out. “What do you think you would say if a guy you’re in a physical relationship with suddenly admitted to you that he could do extraordinary things?”

“I’d know,” Tony assured him. “If it was really _me_ having sex with Kyle, and being with him as intimately as you wrote them, he wouldn’t be able to hide it from me.”

“Think so?”

“Yes. Depending on the ability, I suppose. If he’s able go invisible or something, I’d probably have seen him do it, by then, right?”

“Maybe. He’s been hiding it for a long time, though.”

“See? The Tony Stark in your story is spending a lot of time with this guy. He’s going to slip up and let his abilities known – even without realizing it.”

“Huh. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Stark looked pleased. And maybe a little eager.

“What are you going to do with the rest of your day?”

“I’m not sure. Probably go home and clean my house. My so-“

“Why don’t you let me come home with you? Pick my brain some more? Let me in on more spoilers?”

Peter smiled, and shook his head.

“You’re not very good at listening, are you? Or do you just _prefer_ not to listen?”

Tony rolled his eyes.

“I’m not going to _eat_ you, okay?”

“No. I’ve pretty much decided you’re not a cannibal,” Peter agreed. “But I told you that I’m tired. I’ve spent the day trying to meet and greet with dozens of little, excitable, children and their frazzled parents. It’s not the same as running a mega corporation, but it does wear a person out. I’m too tired to write, tonight, and really, to be honest, I’m too tired to be good company – or _want_ company. No matter how thrilling the idea might be, normally.”

“Oh.” Tony shrugged. He’d been told before – by pretty much everyone around him that knew him – that he wasn’t good at listening. Clearly young Peter Parker agreed with them, and wasn’t afraid to point it out, either. “Fine. So, we don’t do it, tonight. What about a different day? Do you have a real job that you have to work your schedule around?”

Peter raised an eyebrow.

“Because being a writer isn’t a _real_ job?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Stark said, backpedaling. “I just meant, do you have _another_ job? How do I know what writers make? Does it feed you? Pay your rent? Do you hustle or flip burgers on the side?”

“It pays the bills,” Peter assured the older man. “And I eat, regularly.”

“Good. See? I’m just looking out for you. So when can I see you, again?”

“See me again?”

“Not like that,” Tony told him. “Unless you’re _interested_ in something like that,” he added – just getting it out there while he had the chance. “I meant when can we get together, again? I want to talk about the story and what’s going to happen, next.”

Peter was interested in seeing Tony again. Why not? It was Tony Stark, right? What fanfiction writer wouldn’t want to have the real deal to bounce ideas off of when the opportunity presented itself? And Stark hadn’t mentioned that he was offended at the notion that the fictional Tony Stark was sleeping with a younger guy. Peter was very much into older guys, and very much into Tony Stark. He mentally went through what he had scheduled the next week – including what times that week Parker’s grandparents wanted some time with the child.

“I’m free, tomorrow afternoon.”

“Great. When?”

“Any time after two.”

“Can I call you?”

Peter smiled.

“Yes.”

That made Tony smile, too. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a business card and a pen.

“Number?”

“You don’t already have it?” Peter asked, once more raising an eyebrow. “I thought you had instant access to pretty much everything?”

“I’m trying to not be creepy,” Tony told him with a shrug. Then he handed the young man the business card. “I _do_ already have it. Here. You can call me if something comes up.”

“Thanks.” Peter pocketed the card. “And thanks for the coffee.”

“Can I offer you a ride home?”

Peter hesitated, but then shrugged.

“You won’t eat me?”

“I promise.”

“Sure.”


	6. 6

He didn’t write that night.

For one thing, he hadn’t been lying when he told Tony Stark that he was tired. He wasn’t in the mood to write. For another, he wanted to take care of a few things that he couldn’t really do when Parker was home. Not that he ever considered the boy _underfoot_ , because he didn’t, but Parker was a little kid and like he knew, little kids were a bundle of energy and needed a lot of attention. It was easier to vacuum on those days when the boy’s grandmother, or aunts or uncle, had him for a few hours. It was definitely easier to make beds and change sheets.

By the time Parker’s aunt brought him home that evening, Peter had managed to get everything done that he’d planned to do. The little house was cleaner, laundry was caught up – the last load in the dryer, but close enough – and he’d made his bed and Parker’s with new sheets and freshly washed bedspreads. His was simply the dark blue that he liked so much, but Parker’s was an Ironman one that the boy’s grandmother had sent over the last winter.

Not to mention reliving his conversation with Tony Stark several times.

“Daddy met someone famous, today,” he told his son later that even when the two were sitting at the coffee table coloring together. The little boy looked up with interest, but didn’t say anything – as usual. “He seems like a nice enough guy. But we’ll wait and see, right?”

Parker nodded his agreement and turned back to coloring the Jack and Snaps coloring book that his aunt had sent home with him that evening. She’d warned him that Parker had spent the day running around with his cousins and had been fed dinner, so he probably wasn’t going to want to stay up late. Peter didn’t mind; as far as he was concerned, the boy _should_ be spending time with his family. Parker had a lot more relatives than Peter, himself, had had when he was growing up, and that could only be a good thing.

“I might see him, again, tomorrow,” Peter told the boy. “While you’re at grandma and grandpa’s. We’re going to talk about a story daddy is writing.”

Parker tapped the picture of the boy and the dog that he was coloring, looking curious – and confirming to Peter that there was nothing wrong with his mind; he just didn’t speak. Peter smiled, and shook his head.

“No. A _different_ story.”

Much different.

Satisfied, the child turned back to his coloring, and Peter colored, too, but was only half paying attention to what he was doing, since thinking of Tony had brought the man’s image to mind. His pretty eyes and handsome face. Perfect haircut and the way his eyes lit up when he was amused – or clouded when he was annoyed. The man definitely had a nice face, and Peter could sketch it in his sleep. Add to that the fact that he had been able to hold Peter’s interest in a conversation? Yeah, they hadn’t been talking about anything too deep, but it had been nice. And exciting, really, now that Peter thought back on it.

He was so distracted by the visual that he almost jumped out of his skin when his cell rang, which startled Parker, too.

Peter grinned, amused with himself, and tapping his son’s nose with the green crayon that he was holding as he reached for the phone, frowning because he didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID.

“Hello?”

_“Hello. Is this Peter Parker, porn star?”_

Peter rolled his eyes, glad that Parker didn’t have a clue what a porn star was – at least he _better_ not. There was no way the boy hadn’t heard the question, although he turned his attention back to the crayons, immediately. Tony’s voice definitely sounded amused – or pleased with himself, Peter wasn’t sure.

“No. You must have the wrong number. This is Big Bob’s Auto Mall. Are you looking for a new used car? Big Bob’s is the man to see.”

Peter had walked up the block with Tony once they’d left the coffee shop, and the car that Stark had led him to was a beautiful sportscar – and _expensive_ , of course.

“This is nice,” Peter had said, when Tony opened the door for him, politely.

“Of course it is,” Tony had replied. “Only the best for Tony Stark, right?”

Since it was a line that had been used a couple of times in the story Peter was writing about the fictious Tony Stark, Peter had reddened, slightly, relieved that he’d decided that his protagonist for Secret Keeper was going to be _Kyle_ and not Peter, or Pete, or something similar to his own name. He’d been tempted, of course, but none of his other characters had been named after anyone he knew, and he wanted to keep it that way. The better to avoid anyone tracking him down, somehow.

At least, that had been the idea. Tony Stark and his incredible capabilities and network hadn’t been something Peter had been concerned about at the time.

_“I’m looking for a date,”_ Stark said, and Peter could hear the amusement in the man’s voice. _“Someone I can take to dinner, tomorrow. Interested?”_

Peter’s heart gave a tiny flutter at the thought.

“What time?”

_“Whenever is good for you.”_

“Where?”

_“Wherever you want – as long as it isn’t someplace too public, so I don’t have to worry about being mobbed by fangirls and can eat in peace – and spend time talking to you.”_

“You just want to get more spoilers,” Peter accused, gently, hoping that that wasn’t really the case.

_“Whaaaat?”_ The man’s voice was amused and it made Peter smile. _“Maybe a little. Interested?”_

Peter looked down at his son, who was watching him, now.

“Alright.”

_“Can I pick you up?”_ Stark asked. _“Or is that creepy?”_

“Sounds good.”

_“Seven o’clock.”_

“Right.”

The call ended, and Peter set his phone aside, but smiled at the boy who was watching him.

“It’s not a date,” he said, knowing that Parker didn’t know what a date was. “But it might be fun. That’s probably okay, right?”

Parker nodded, and Peter leaned over and pressed a kiss against the boy’s head, making him giggle.

“I’m glad you approve.”

><><><><>

_“Didn’t you have plans to work on your new suit, tomorrow evening?”_

Tony smiled, leaning back against the soft leather of the expensive sofa.

“I _did_ ,” he agreed. “Now I have a date, instead.”

FRIDAY was silent for a moment, and Stark wondered what she was thinking in that amazing quantum processor of hers. She didn’t make him wonder long.

_“He seems likeable enough.”_

The billionaire nodded.

“Yeah. Maybe he isn’t as bright as good ole Kyle, but he isn’t stupid, by any means, and he’s spunky. I like that.”

There were plenty of people that Stark interacted with who fawned all over him and stoked his ego – and he liked it, of course – but it was kind of pleasant to find someone who was willing to verbally spar with him, too, like Peter Parker did. Plus he was attractive, with those brown eyes and those curls. His youth didn’t hurt, either, as far as Stark was concerned. Tony closed his eyes, hand sliding down to his lap.

_“Where are you going to take him to dinner?”_

“I’ll let him choose. That way he’s comfortable.”

_“Have you checked him out?”_

“Yes. He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” the hand slid under his slacks.

If an AI could roll her eyes, FRIDAY did it.

_“I meant, have you checked his history?”_

“No. He’s a writer.” How interesting could it be? “I’ll have something to talk about, tomorrow, that way.”

The AI was silent, and while Stark was usually fairly perceptive when it came to interacting with her, he missed that not so subtle hint that she was giving him. He had other things to think about, just then, after all, as his hand went around his wakening penis, and his mind was suddenly having very little trouble imagining Peter Parker naked and under him.

_“I’m sure you will…”_


	7. 7

Peter muffled a soft curse when the doorbell rang at exactly seven o’clock the next evening. He was dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt, and looked at his watch – and then at his son, who was sitting on the couch watching cartoons, dressed to go to grandma’s, and munching on a slice of an apple from a bowl of them that Peter had given him.

“Stay there, little man. Okay?”

Parker nodded, not even turning from the cartoon, and Peter walked across the living room to answer the door – just as the bell rang, again. Tony Stark was standing on the other side, looking cheerful and handsome, and wearing a neatly tailored suit that looked amazing on him.

“I was wondering if you’d changed your mind and were hiding behind the door waiting for me to leave,” the billionaire said, smiling.

“Not at all,” Peter assured him. “Just running a little behind, is all.”

“You look good.”

The young man blushed, and Tony felt his underwear tighten, just a little.

“Thank you. You do, too.”

“I know.” He smiled, though, to make sure Peter knew that he was just being a smartass. “Ready?”

“I _am_ , but we can’t leave, just yet.”

“Why?”

Peter smiled, and then shrugged. He hadn’t really _intended_ to introduce his son to the man until he had a better idea of what kind of person he really was. But things happened, sometimes.

“Come inside. I’ll show you.”

Tony followed Peter into the house, looking around with interest. The day before he’d simply dropped him off, so while he knew the writer had a quaint little house in a decent neighborhood, rather than living in a squalid walk up somewhere, he didn’t really know much more than that.

“Nice place,” he said, meaning it.

It was homey, and warm. A decent sized living room – nothing outrageous like _Tony’s_ – but ample room, a kitchen with a breakfast nook and an island, and a few doors leading off to other areas. There was a desk with a laptop near at hand and a sofa with a big flat screen television on the wall that was playing cartoons.

“Thanks.”

Peter led him over to the sofa, and Tony froze, looking down at the boy sitting on it with uncertainty. It explained the cartoons, he supposed, but he was still surprised at the unexpected company.

“Are you _baby-sitting_?”

Peter smiled, again.

“No. This is my son, Parker. Parker?” The little boy turned and looked up at him, and then at Tony. “This is my friend, Tony.”

The child waved the hand with the apple slice in it and smiled, but turned his attention back to the cartoon, not too interested in a stranger when there were more important things going on in front of him.

“He isn’t coming with us,” Peter assured the other man. “But his grandmother is running late, so we’re going to have to wait until she comes. Is that alright?”

“Of course…” Tony couldn’t help but stare at the child, though, and glance between the boy and the young man who offered him a spot on the sofa – which he accepted. There was no doubt that little guy was Peter’s, he decided. They looked a lot alike, even with the soft cheeks of the child compared to the more angular lines of the man. The hair was the same, and the eyes – even the snub nose. “He’s cute.”

Peter smiled, reaching out and putting his hand on Parker’s head, which made the boy smile over at him, again.

“Yeah, that he is.”

“How old is he?”

“How old are you, Parker?” Peter asked his son.

The boy looked over at Tony and held up three fingers – and then held another one partially up, which made the corner of Tony’s mouth quirk in amusement.

“Is that three and a half?” he asked. Parker nodded, and then reached into the small bowl in his lap and picked up another apple slice, which he offered to Tony, who took it, wondering just how clean the little boy’s fingers were. “Thank you.”

Before there could be a reply, the doorbell rang.

“Be right back,” Peter said.

Before Tony could be nervous being left alone with the little guy, he heard Peter’s voice and then a woman’s responding. A moment later Peter and a woman walked over to the sofa.

“There’s my baby boy!” Parker’s eyes lit up when the woman greeted him, reaching down over the back of the sofa and picking him up with a flourish. Tony rescued the bowl of apple slices before it could be spilled and looked over at her. She was an older woman, graying hair that was once jet black and a lean face with cheerful blue eyes that were striking when compared to her deeply tanned skin. “I’m sorry I’m late, Peter.”

“It’s alright, Angie.” Peter smiled when he saw her eyes widen and knew that she recognized Tony. “This is Tony Stark.”

“Yes, so I see.” She shifted Parker to one arm and offered her free hand to the billionaire. “I’m Angie Anderson.”

“A pleasure,” Tony said, politely taking her hand for a moment.

“How do you two know each other?” she asked, looking at Peter.

The young man didn’t miss a beat.

“Tony’s consulting for one of my stories.”

“Oh.” She didn’t even ask what a billionaire superhero might know about a little kid and his dog. “That’s nice. It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Stark.”

“Call me Tony.”

Which made her smile.

“That’s nice.” She stared at him for another moment, and then turned to Parker. “Are you ready to come to gramma’s?”

The boy nodded, excitedly, and hugged her, making the woman smile.

“His bag is on the table,” Peter told her. “Do you need anything?”

“No.” Her tone made it clear that she was absolutely comfortable with the little boy – and she was, of course. “Do you want me to bring him home, tomorrow?”

“I’ll come get him.” The young man leaned over, putting his face close to his son, and Parker kissed him, noisily – which made Peter smile. “You be good, young man, and listen to your grandma and grandpa.”

Parker’s eyes were happy, and he nodded.

A moment later they were gone, and Peter closed the door behind them and turned to Tony, who raised an eyebrow, allowing his surprise to show.

“Wow.”

Peter smiled.

“Surprised?”

“That you have a three year old son?” Tony asked, handing the young man the bowl of apple slices. “You might say that. _How old_ are you?”

“Just turned twenty-one last month.”

The billionaire looked around.

“Where’s his mother?”

“She was killed in an auto accident, a year and a half ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Peter nodded, and took the bowl from the billionaire, walking to the kitchen with Tony following him.

“I am, too. But we were never really an item.”

“Must have been _something_ ,” Tony pointed out. “You have a child, together.”

“She never even told me about him,” Peter said.

“What do you mean?”

“I was sixteen and in my sophomore year of college. My roommate – who was a nice guy, and extremely popular – thought he’d do me a favor. He took me to a party I didn’t really want to go to, got me drunk and introduced me to Lindy. She was a senior, and thought I was cute, apparently, and decided that she’d be my first.”

“Ah.”

Peter shrugged.

“I don’t even remember it,” he admitted. “And while I did remember _her_ – she was in one of the classes I took – we never had a spark, or anything. She graduated a few months later, and I never heard from her, again.”

“Then how did you find out about Parker – and who names their kid _Parker Parker_?”

The younger man smiled.

“His name is Parker Anderson on his original birth certificate. Lindy came home, had him and refused to tell her parents who his father was. Angie and I think it was because I was underage when he was conceived and Lindy was afraid she’d get in trouble, or they’d somehow be able to take Parker away from her. I might not have found out about him at all – especially when she was killed – except that when Angie and Murray applied to adopt Parker, they were informed that as the biological father, I had to sign off on it.”

“And you refused?”

“Yeah. I was out of school, by then,” Peter said. “And I had a career. There wasn’t any reason that I couldn’t raise my son, really – even though I didn’t know diddly about little kids.”

“How did they take it?”

“They didn’t have any say,” he replied. “I am drug free, have a respectable job so I had money enough to feed us, and I was the boy’s father. That put the law on my side.” Peter smiled. “They’re amazing people, though, and they love him. So I promised that they could still be involved with him, and they’re great about spending a lot of time with him. On my side of the family, there is my aunt May and uncle Ben. They raised me when my folks were killed when I was only a few years older than Parker. On _Lindy’s_ side, though, Parker has three aunts, and an uncle, grandparents, and a lot of cousins. I didn’t have a big family growing up, but he does – and he will.”

“Huh.” Now it was Stark’s turn to shrug. “I’m impressed.”

He wasn't so sure that if he’d been in the same situation that Peter had found himself in that he’d have stepped up like the younger man had. Luckily, as far as he knew, he didn’t have that concern.

“I’ve had a lot of help. Parker was already eating mostly solid food and was beginning too learn potty training before I took over raising him, so the gross stuff was finished, for the most part.”

“I imagine that he cramps your social life,” Tony said, watching as Peter rinsed out the apple bowl and put it in the dishwasher.

“He _is_ my social life,” the writer said. “That and working, I suppose.”

He didn’t seem to mind, though.

“So now I have to ask you a personal question…” Stark said. “You don’t _have_ to answer, of course, but I’ll probably nag you until you do, just so you know.”

“What question is that?” he asked, drying his hands off on a towel, but watching the other man, curiously.

“Do you like guys? Or women? I assumed from the things you’ve written that you were into _men_ , but now… well, I’m not so sure.”

Peter hesitated.

“I don’t have a lot of experience with either,” he admitted.

“You write some pretty hot stuff.”

“Because I do a lot of _research_.”

Tony smiled, trying very hard to keep his expression and tone nonchalant.

“Which research excited you the most?”

“It’s all exciting to me,” Peter told him. “Or I wouldn’t write it.”

The billionaire rolled his eyes, but let it drop.

“Where do you want to eat?”

“Italian?”

“I know just the place.”


	8. 8

If Peter had assumed that Tony was going to use dinner as a chance to wrangle more spoilers about the ongoing story that he was writing, he was wrong. Stark drove them to a very nice place that was busy and yet still managed to give the impression of being intimate. If the hostess or the servers recognized him, they were too polite and professional to mention it, although one of the older women did a double-take when she saw Peter.

They had a corner booth with high walls on three sides, and only accessible where they’d entered. It made them feel as if they were the only ones in the place, aside from the servers, who were extremely unobtrusive. After they ordered, Tony questioned Peter more about Parker, and how he’d managed to adjust from single bachelor-hood to living with a small person who had to be constantly talking his ear off. He’d seen the stereotype of small children and their endless questions, after all.

“Parker doesn’t speak,” Peter told the older man, nibbling on a breadstick.

“Doesn’t? Or _can’t_?” Tony asked, curiously.

“Doesn’t. He makes noises, and can vocalize. When he laughs and when he cries. But he’s never said an actual word as long as I’ve had him. And from what Angie and Murray tell me, he stopped talking the night that his mother died.”

“That’s awful.”

“He was in the car,” Peter said. “But he was buckled into his car seat and didn’t even get a scratch. I can’t imagine what it was like, though, waiting for the first responders to come and listening to whatever sounds she made as she bled to death. I’ve discussed the situation with his pediatrician, and with a psychologist, but they all have the same advice, for now.”

“Wait and see?” Tony guessed, looking troubled.

“Yes. So, we wait and see. He’s a happy little guy, most of the time, and I’ve yet to catch him having a nightmare, but we’ll watch him and wait and see.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

Stark shrugged.

“You just impress me more and more every minute.”

Peter blushed at that – he couldn’t help it. He smiled, though, pleased at such a compliment coming from someone as incredible as Tony Stark.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. So, you write – as we already _know_ – and you entertain your son. What else do you do to keep yourself busy?”

“Not much. I watch movies – and a lot of cartoons, lately. I majored in creative writing and minored in art.”

“Painting?”

“Sketching.”

“You can draw?”

“I’m the listed _illustrator_ for all of my books,” Peter pointed out. “If you’d bothered to open the cover while you stood in that bookstore stalking me, you’d have read that, somewhere.”

“I wasn’t stalking you. What can you sketch? Besides the little kid and the dog?”

“Lots of things. Animals, some landscapes…”

“People?”

“Yes.”

“Me?” Peter flushed, and Tony was surprised by the response. Then he smiled, because he realized why the response had been so visible. “You’ve drawn me, before?”

“Maybe.”

“You _have_?”

“Of course, I have,” Peter admitted. “You’re easy to sketch, after all.”

“Because I’m so good looking?”

“Because you’re _generic_ ,” the younger man countered. “A couple of circles, eyeballs, a nose, and messy hair. Throw in a little facial hair and it’s done.”

Stark huffed.

“I’m not sure if I should flattered or insulted.”

Peter smiled at that.

“ _I’m_ easy to draw, too,” he said. “So you’re in good company. A couple of circles, a nose, eyeballs and wavey hair. And no facial hair, of course.”

“Of course.” Tony pulled a pen from his jacket pocket and handed it to him, pushing a napkin over to him, as well. “Draw us.”

“Together?”

“Yes.”

“Doing what?”

His thoughts went to the manilla envelope in his locked desk drawer. The one that held all of the drawings that he’d done, so far, and kept of the two of them. Some they were simply standing beside each other – or sitting on the couch – but in some they were definitely enjoying each other’s company in a more physical sense.

Not surprising, however, he decided that this one would be strictly PG. Peter pulled the napkin over in front of himself, and then did as he was told, making a quick sketch of Tony’s face and then putting his own beside it. They were close enough to be touching but they weren’t so close that he was presuming anything with the other man.

The billionaire noticed that Peter didn’t need to look up at him as he did it, as if he really _had_ done that drawing several times, before. In ten minutes, Peter was finished, and the result was a fair resemblance to the two of them, side by side.

“I could do better with regular paper,” Peter told him, handing him his pen back and pushing the napkin over. “But it isn’t too bad.”

“No. It’s good – and my hair isn’t _messy_.”

He tucked the pen – _and_ the drawing – into his pocket, and turned the conversation back to Peter, and Parker, and allowed the younger man to ask him questions about himself, as well. Things that weren’t already common knowledge to anyone who looked on the internet. It was a nice way to pass the evening, for both of them. Peter, who didn’t get a lot of quiet time with just another adult, and Tony, who spent plenty of time with adults, of course, but didn’t spend much of that time with someone as down to earth as Peter Parker was.

One of the drawbacks to surrounding himself with extraordinary people, he supposed.

When they were done eating and had lingered over dessert to the point that the servers would just automatically come over and top off their coffee, now, without needing to ask, the two were quite comfortable with each other. Peter had lost most of the suppressed giddiness at having Tony Stark across from him, and Tony was thoroughly enjoying himself and the company.

Eventually, though, Peter said they should probably get going.

“I had fun,” he told Tony – meaning it. “But it’s getting late.”

“It isn’t _that_ late,” Stark pointed out, unwilling to call it a night, just yet.

“I have some things to do at home,” he replied. “With Parker at his grandmother’s, it’s a good time to get them done.”

“Like what?” Tony asked, dropping a tip on the table and sliding out of the booth. “Anything interesting?”

“There are some dishes to do,” Peter told him. He smiled, though, because he was sure that Tony would be interested in the next part. “And I thought I might write up the newest update to Secret Keeper.”

Sure enough, those intelligent, brown, eyes lit up.

“Yes! Can I come watch?”

“You want to watch me write?”

“Will it bother you?”

“Probably not.”

“Well?”

“I guess. But you can’t be _annoying_.”

“I’m _never_ annoying, Peter Parker.” Tony hooked his arm through the younger man’s, and guided him toward the door. “You’ll see. You won’t even know I’m there.”


	9. 9

That wasn’t _quite_ the case, Peter found.

It turned out that he was very much aware of the other man’s presence. It wasn’t necessarily Tony’s fault, of course. It wasn’t _Tony’s_ fault that Peter had harbored secret (and _not so_ secret) fantasies about him. It might have been Tony’s fault that he smelled so good, and that was a distraction. It almost certainly wasn't his fault that he was being a perfect gentleman when he held the car door open for Peter, and then had done the same with the front door of the house when they’d arrived back at Peter’s place.

“I’m going to go change,” Peter told him. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable.”

Tony slipped out of his jacket, hanging it over the back of Peter’s chair before he walked over to the couch and seated himself, moving a small Thor plushie out of the way as he did. He scowled, looking around for an _Ironman_ one, as well, but didn’t see any.

“Is this _yours_?” he asked Peter when the young man returned, now dressed in sweats and a t-shirt and just warm socks on his feet.

“That would be _Parker’s_.” He took it from Tony. “His uncle gave it to him for his birthday, last year.”

“Just Thor?”

“Just Thor.”

“No Ironman?”

“Nope. He likes Ironman, too, though. He has an Ironman bedspread.” Peter walked over to his desk and picked up his laptop. “Maybe next birthday he’ll get an Ironman doll.”

“Maybe sooner than that,” Tony grumbled, moving to allow Peter room beside him. “You aren’t against the idea of him _having_ an Ironman one, too?”

“I think that would be nice. Of course, you realize that he has no idea that _you’re_ Ironman, right?”

“Why not?”

“Because he probably isn’t old enough to understand that a person can have more than one identity.”

“Oh.” Tony kicked his shoes off, putting his feet on the coffee table, while Peter opened his laptop. “Is the new chapter going to be naughty?”

“I hadn’t planned on it,” Peter admitted, amused at how Tony could so easily switch from one topic to another. He wondered if it was part of being a genius, or if it was more a callback to how erratic the billionaire seemed to present himself to the public, at times. “But it _could_ be. It’s in a spot when the angst will start to build, and there’s _always_ room for some smut.”

Tony pulled out his phone, bringing up the fanfiction site so he could browse through the story that had been posted, so far. He liked rereading it – especially the steamy parts.

“What’s the angst going to be?” he asked, looking at Peter. “Will something happen to Kyle? Don’t _hurt_ him. He’s too adorable to have bruises.”

“I was thinking Tony would say something that hurts his feelings – or maybe makes him mad – and they stop seeing each other. Or maybe Kyle quits the internship and vanishes. I haven’t quite decided.”

“You really _do_ just make it up as you go along, don’t you?”

“Yes. Mostly.”

“That’s impressive. You do it with the books you write, too? The little kid ones, I mean?”

“I tell Parker stories about them when he wants an original story, and I record it as I do. If he likes it, or if I think it’ll work out, then I work on it a bit more and make it into a new adventure.”

“Huh. They aren’t going to argue, _yet_ , are they?”

It took Peter a moment to realize that Tony was changing the topic back to the story he was working on, just then.

“I hadn’t planned on it.” He turned himself on the sofa so his back was leaning against the arm, and he was turned toward Tony, with the laptop in his lap and his feet resting just against Stark’s thigh, the toes almost under him. “Did you have a request?”

“Something _naughty_ ,” Stark replied, immediately. “The naughtier, the better.”

“Kinky?” Peter asked, not surprised by the response. He could feel his ears warming up at the idea of writing a sex scene about Tony Stark with the man actually in the room withing range of a touch, if he wanted to reach out. “Or just sexy?”

“A lot of sucking,” Tony said. He had decided that Kyle and Peter could juxtapose in his mind, and he was thinking about the young man beside him when he spoke, next. “I want the boy’s mouth on my cock. I want his tongue running the length of me, licking and sucking until his jaws ache and I’m so hard Kyle is almost nervous about the pounding he’s going get to from me.”

Peter’s lower lip vanished between his teeth for a moment at the visualization.

“You’d be gentle with him, though, right?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper. “If he was yours…?”

Tony’s expression changed, just a little, wondering (and hoping?) that Peter was doing a little juxtaposing in his own mind.

“I’d treat him like he was made of glass,” he said, reaching out and brushing his hand along Peter’s foot. “But there’d be no doubt the next morning that he’d been thoroughly loved, and we’d both have trouble walking.”

“Jesus…” Peter whispered, shaking his head, and feeling the heat of the blush on his face. “That’s hot, Tony.”

“You should incorporate it into your story.”

“I _might_.”

Peter cleared his throat, and turned his attention with some difficulty to the task at hand, finding where he’d left off and then beginning to write a scene for the two. The last update had been pretty steamy, and Peter had planned on having the next scene open with them doing something the next day – or maybe an office setting. Now, however, he was willing to allow that to change.

“The fictitious Tony Stark just had some fairly hot sex,” Peter pointed out – unnecessarily, since Tony was reading that part, now. “Won’t he need a while to get hard, again? He’s pretty old, right?”

“That’s the whole point of a lot of sucking and licking,” Stark said. “And I’m not _that_ old.”

“You know what I mean.”

“How many times a night could you masturbate?”

“A few.”

He knew, because he’d done it.

“How many times do you think I could?”

“Two?”

“Probably. With the right partner, though…” he trailed off, shrugging. “If nothing else, if yo- if _Kyle_ got me hard, he could cock warm all night. Play with me enough to keep me up, and when I eventually become motivated, I’d simply pull him down onto my lap – and my cock – and empty myself into him.”

“ _After_ you got him off,” Peter said, pointedly.

“What do you think I’d be doing while he’s cock warming?”

Peter shivered, slightly, at that visualization, and shook his head.

“You’re pretty good at that.”

“At what?”

“Telling the story and making it sensual – and exciting.”

“Because I’m invested in it,” the billionaire pointed out. He waved his hand at him. “Get to writing. I can’t wait to read this.”

“Alright.”

Amused, but still glad that his laptop was covering his somewhat interested midsection, Peter turned back to the task at hand and started writing.


	10. 10

“Well?”

“Hush, honey, I’m reading.”

Peter rolled his eyes, amused at the admonishment, and somewhat pleased at the endearment. That was new. He was sitting in the same spot on his sofa, laptop still in his lap, but his legs were stretched across Tony’s thighs where the older man had put them sometime while Peter had been typing out his latest update. The billionaire hadn’t bothered to move them when Peter announced that he’d posted the update, just as a soft note from Tony’s phone advised him of the same thing. With a happy noise, Tony had opened the update with one hand, and the other was holding Peter’s ankle, lightly.

The young writer saved his work on the laptop and then browsed through some reviews for the newest Jack and Snaps book that had been released, and he was pleased to see that it was well received. Critics were fickle; Peter knew that from both his books and from reading what people had to say about the stories that he wrote. It was always nice when someone had something good to say.

When ample time had passed that Tony had to have finished, but he was still looking at it, Peter wondered if it wasn’t as good as he’d thought it was, and he couldn’t help but speak up, again.

“Well? Is it so bad that you’re trying to think of nice things to say so you won’t hurt my feelings?”

He’d been pretty distracted while writing it, after all, and could have missed spelling errors, or grammar checks. He was pretty sure he hadn’t, though.

“Nothing like that, I assure you,” was the reply. Tony smiled over at him. “I’m just trying to give myself time to cool off. Reading it over and over isn’t helping, though.”

Peter’s glance went to the area by his feet and he realized that there was a bit of a bulge in Tony’s lap. More than had been there, before, anyway. He looked up at the man, who had been watching him, his expressive eyes holding a mixture of lust and amusement.

“Then it was good,” Peter said, feeling just a little smug that he’d excited him.

Tony rolled his eyes.

“You might say that, yes.” He guided Peter’s sock-covered foot to his lap, letting him feel the hardness that was there, and sighed when Peter rubbed his toes against him, intimately. “Jesus, Peter. How is that so hot? It’s your feet, for Christ’s sakes.”

“Maybe you have a foot fetish you didn’t know about?” the younger man replied.

“I know _all_ of my fetishes,” he responded. “Believe me.” He’d had plenty of opportunity to explore them, after all. “I should probably go home.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not going to be good company until I take care of this problem, and I haven’t known you long enough to ask you for help with it.”

Peter moved his foot.

“Take deep breaths,” he said. “Think about kittens, and old people having sex. Or playing BINGO. That always works for me.”

_Usually_.

“What?”

The boy smiled.

“When I write something steamy and Parker’s suddenly around, it sometimes takes me a bit to calm myself down. That’s what I think about to do it.”

“Huh.” Tony closed his eyes, and leaned back against the cushion behind him. A moment later, he shook his head. “It isn’t working. In fact, it’s getting worse.”

Peter had to agree. The evidence was there in front of him.

“Then you’re not thinking about the right things.”

“Oh, I _am_ ,” the older man disagreed. “You’re just too good at what you do.” He opened his eyes and sat up, again. “Move your laptop.”

“What?”

Tony smirked.

“Move your laptop, honey,” he repeated. “I want to see if you are practicing what you’re preaching.”

Peter rolled his eyes, his ears turning red, again, but he did what Tony requested. Wearing sweats like he was, there was no way to hide that having his foot pressing against Tony like it had been had aroused him, adding to the erection that had been there pretty much since he’d started writing the hot and heavy sex scene between Tony Stark and his made up Kyle.

“Happy?”

“More than you can know,” Tony answer, smiling. His eyes darkened, slightly, and it made Peter ache inside. “Can I kiss you, Peter?”

“I don- _yes_.”

Tony shifted, moving so that he was turned toward the younger man, now, his knee on the couch supporting his weight, and one hand going to the arm of the sofa that Peter was resting back against. He leaned forward, his body looming over the smaller man’s, his eyes locked on Peter’s.

“Don’t look so nervous,” he murmured, brushing his lips against the young man’s forehead. “I’m not going to hurt you, and I won’t do anything that you’re not ready for.”

He kissed his cheek, then, and then those soft lips with the coarser facial hair around them brushed against the corner of Peter’s mouth.

“I’m not nervous,” Peter said, breathlessly.

He _was_ , though, and he knew Tony was experienced enough to see it. The boy made a soft noise when Tony’s lips caught his own, and he closed his eyes, his hand coming up to press, lightly, against the other man’s chest. Stark groaned into the kiss and allowed his tongue to brush against Peter’s lower lip for just a moment before he broke off, leaning back just a little so he could look down at him.

“You are sexy as fuck,” he told him. “You know that, right?”

Peter looked up at him, his face heated and his groin aching.

“Because you know I’m a virgin?”

“That’s probably part of it,” Tony admitted, honestly. He kissed him, again. “It’s exciting to think of being your first. Of showing you how good it can feel to be made love to by someone with the experience I have. But part of it is that I’ve been reading about your fictional Tony Stark making love to Kyle for weeks, now, and in my mind, the minute I met you, you became Kyle.”

“Oh.”

“Tell me you’re not interested, and I’ll back off…”

“I’m interested,” Peter said. He had to be honest, too. “I get hard every time I write you and Kyle.”

“But…?”

“But I’m not into the idea of a one night stand.”

“The little boy I met, earlier, tells me otherwise.”

Peter scowled and pushed the older man off of him. He wasn’t violent about it, but Tony was surprised just how easily he moved him. He wasn’t a lightweight, after all, and Peter was a fairly scrawny guy.

“That was a low blow, Tony,” the boy said, sitting up. “I _told_ you what happened. It wasn’t a one-night stand. Not in the sense that you made it sound like.”

Stark held up his hands, immediately contrite.

“I know. I’m sorry. It just slipped out.”

“I was _sixteen_.”

“I _know_ , Peter. I’m sorry. I know it wasn't –“

“And I didn’t ask for-“

“I know, Peter. I said I was sorry. I _am_. I mean it. I just got caught up in the moment, trying to persuade you to do what I wanted. I was wrong to bring it up like that. It was insensitive and cruel.”

“Yes, it was.”

Peter was clearly not mollified, and Tony was annoyed. Not at the boy, of course, but at himself for being so insensitive. And dumb.

“I should go.”

“Yeah.”

He put his shoes on, practically feeling the hurt and anger coming from the younger man sitting beside him, so tensely.

“Can I call you?”

“No.” Peter sighed, though. “ _Maybe_. I don’t know.”

Tony stood up, and the younger man echoed the motion. He picked up his jacket and Peter walked him to the door. Stark stopped, though, as he opened it.

“Call me if you need anything. Okay?”

“I’m fine.”

The door shut behind him and Tony sighed.

“Shit.”


	11. 11

“Why do you look so annoyed?”

Tony scowled, looking over at Pepper.

“I’m stupid and insensitive.”

“And that annoys you?” she asked. “Don’t get me wrong, it annoys _me_ all the time.”

“Cute.” He didn’t look nearly as amused as _she_ did, though. “I hurt someone’s feelings.”

“And…?”

“And I didn’t _mean_ to.”

“You do it all the time to people,” his CEO pointed out. Ruthless, but true, and he knew it. “Why does it matter so much, this time?”

He made an annoyed noise.

“It _doesn’t_.”

“Right.”

“Because I didn’t want to,” Tony told her. “I was having a good time, and had plans for an even _better_ time, and then I said something without thinking about it, and it wasn’t very nice. I honestly didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, though. It was just a stupid, callous, comment that I shouldn’t have made.”

“Did you apologize?”

“Yes.”

“Did you _mean_ it?”

“Yes.”

“Wow.”

“Did you _need_ something?” he asked her, pointedly.

“A signature.” She handed the document to him and he signed it without looking at it. Which made her hesitate. He really was upset with himself – something she’d never really seen, before. “Maybe you should try to call him?” she suggested.

“He won’t answer.”

“You know this because you’ve tried?”

“I know because if I were him, I wouldn’t.”

“Maybe he’s a bigger man than you are.”

“He’s a little guy, and-“ he stopped, realizing what she meant. “Oh. Maybe…” But probably not.

He needed something a little more direct.

><><><><

The day was sunny and bright, and the park was fairly crowded with children and the parents or nannies that were watching them play on the playground equipment. Peter always enjoyed people watching, so as he watched his son play on the smaller of the two slides and then a wooden springy horse toy, he also watched some of the others around him. He felt a slight tingle, though, and turned in time to see Tony Stark walking toward him.

The billionaire was dressed casually in jeans and a light sweatshirt, with an ever present hat and sunglasses to keep people from recognizing him, but Peter knew him, immediately, and wondered how any of the other people in the park could not notice him for who he was. If nothing else, the facial hair was a dead giveaway. 

Of course, a lot of men were styling their beards in a similar manner, now.

The young man turned from Tony to check on Parker, who was only ten feet away or so and wouldn’t go any further.

“He looks like he’s having fun,” Tony said, moving over to stand beside Peter, but not quite close enough to touch him.

Peter nodded.

“He likes this park. We come here, a lot.”

“Yeah.” Tony didn’t need Peter to tell him that. He’d already utilized FRIDAY to find out where Peter might, possibly, be that morning. Since the guy didn’t have a regular job, it was a bit harder to track him down than it would have been if he had a schedule that he needed to adhere to, daily. “I was hoping I might run into you.”

“Oh?”

“I missed you.”

“You saw me three days ago,” Peter reminded him.

“You didn’t call.”

“I know.”

“Because you’re still mad?”

“Because you took less time than I expected to show your true colors,” Peter said. “I write about you all the time. I should have expected it.”

“You write about me being a dick, but with a softer side that actually does come out when presented with the right man.”

Peter sighed, and shrugged.

“It’s called fan _fiction_ for a reason, I suppose.”

“C’mon, Peter. Don’t be mad at me. _Please_? I said I was sorry. You have no idea how rare that is for me.”

“It wasn’t very nice.”

“I know, honey. It slipped out in the heat of things. It won’t happen, again.”

“You say that, _now_ ,” Peter said, using the excuse of watching Parker to keep from looking at Tony. Avoiding looking into his pretty brown eyes. “When there’s a heated moment next time? Then what?”

“Then I say only wonderful things about you. And I make sure you know just how sorry I am.”

Parker took that moment to come running over to his father, smiling when Peter swept him up into his arms, but looking over at Tony.

“You remember my friend, Tony?” Peter asked his son with nothing in his tone to indicate that Stark wasn’t anything but a true friend.

The boy nodded.

“I thought I’d come and see if you two wanted to go to lunch,” Tony said – directly to the boy. “What do you think? Are you hungry?”

Parker smiled, nodding, again, and then hugged his dad, who rolled his eyes when he turned to Tony.

“That was pretty sneaky.”

Tony shrugged.

“I’m desperate. You can choose the place.”

“There’s a McDonald’s down the block.”

“McDonald’s, huh?”

“You don’t want anything fancier,” Peter assured him. “Believe me. I learned that a long time ago.”

“McDonald’s sounds great.” Greatly daring, he reached over and touched Parker’s elbow, and smiled when the little boy smiled at him. “Do you want some French fries, Parker?”

When the boy nodded, enthusiastically, Peter gave a purely mental sigh and then smiled.

“McDonald’s, it is.”

“Great.”

Peter looked at Parker.

“Are you done playing, then? Ready to eat?”

Another nod, and Peter set him on his feet but took his hand, which the boy was more than willing to present him.

“Are we _walking_?” Tony asked.

“It’s easier than trying to find a new parking space,” Peter replied. “Besides, it’s a nice day and we can use the fresh air.” It had been the whole point of going to the park, in the first place. He looked at Tony. “It probably wouldn’t kill you to have some fresh air, too.”

Ugh.

Tony rolled his eyes, relieved that Peter seemed willing to banter with him. The younger man almost certainly hadn’t forgiven and forgotten, yet, but he wasn’t being a dick – although maybe that was because _Parker_ was there. He shrugged, and fell into step as they started walking, held to the pace of the little boy who was between them.

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

Peter’s smile was cautious, and Tony understood why. That was on him, though, so he couldn’t blame anyone but himself. He felt something touching his hand and looked down to see that Parker was offering him his free hand to hold. Tony took it, automatically, but he could count on one hand – his _free_ hand – how many times he’d held hands with a little kid and walked through the park. It was a little scary, really, but kind of sweet, too.

“Shouldn’t you be brokering some billion dollar deal?” Peter asked, amused at how uncertain the older man looked.

Of course, he also looked handsome, Peter had to admit.

“No. I have people who do that for me. It frees up time for me to do my R&D.” He smiled down at Parker, who was swinging himself between the two men, easily. “I read your new update.”

“I saw your review.”

It really hadn’t been that interesting. Peter knew that his inner turmoil had affected his writing, when he’d posted, try as he might to keep it from doing that. There hadn’t been any sex. There hadn’t been any after sex cuddling, or anything like that. Just some morning after banter, before both of the characters had parted ways to go about their daily responsibilities.

“I liked it.”

“Thank you.”

“I read your _books_ , yesterday, too.”

Peter looked over at him, surprised.

“ _All_ of them?”

“They aren’t very long,” he pointed out, purposely misunderstanding what he was asking. “It wasn't that _hard_.”

The young man rolled his eyes, but his smile was less forced, this time.

“I meant, why did you read them all?”

“Because I wanted to see what the big fuss was about.” He’d read the newest one at the bookstore while he’d been stalking Peter, but now he could say that he knew everything that Jack and Snaps had done in their many adventures. “They were interesting.”

They were walking up to the parking lot of the fast food place, now, and Peter’s hold tightened on his son’s hand.

“Thank you.”

“Of course, now I’m stuck with a complete collection, which looks wildly out of place on my apartment bookshelf.”

That produced a chuckle.

“You could have just read them online, you know?” Peter picked Parker up as they walked up to the counter.

“Where’s the fun in that?”


	12. 12

Eating lunch with a three year old wasn't something that Tony could ever remember doing.

Little kids were so far out of his normal comfort zone that he’d never even bothered trying to do more than wave at them when they were in the crowds of adoring fans who gathered every now and then when he was going to make a scheduled public appearance. They were faceless, along with their parents and all the other people around them.

Parker wasn't so easy to ignore.

Despite the fact that he was little, and didn’t speak, he was very much a presence at the small table in the corner, and Tony made a point to interact with him, although it ended up being a lot of yes and no questions. Nothing extremely philosophical, of course. He mainly asked about the little boy’s likes and dislikes, and through a lot of nodding and head-shaking, while Tony lingered over a big mac and some fries, and Parker gnawed his way through nuggets and fries and a chocolate milkshake, Tony learned that the little boy liked the park, and the slides, and to play tag.

When Tony ran out of questions – it didn’t take long since he had no idea what activities were age appropriate for a three year old – Peter took over, helping him with questions about which Avengers he liked and listing them for the boy. Peter seemed to take inordinate enjoyment in listing them and seeming to accidentally forget to put _Ironman_ on the list – which would prompt Tony to add him in, of course. It was somewhat gratifying that Parker’s nod was just a little more excited when asked about that particular avenger, and Peter rolled his eyes, amused, at the way Tony preened.

“I had fun,” Tony told the two of them, when they finally called it a day. One could only hang out so long at a McDonald’s, after all. Especially one that didn’t have one of those indoor playlands. “Thanks for letting me come.”

Parker smiled, cheerfully, from his perch in Peter’s arms, and then put his head on his father’s shoulder, watching the billionaire.

“I had fun, too,” Peter admitted. “Thanks.”

“What are you doing, tomorrow?”

“No clue, yet.”

“Are you _writing_?”

“I might, tonight. After Parker goes to bed.”

“Can I call you?”

Peter hesitated, but then nodded.

“Yes.”

“Great.” The billionaire smiled, and reached out and ruffled Parker’s hair. “Bye, Parker.”

The little boy waved.

Feeling pleased by the events of the morning, Tony parted ways with them at the edge of the parking lot. He didn’t know if Peter had driven, or taken an Uber or a cab to the park, and he would have offered them a ride home, but the expensive sportscar that he was driving only had two seats. Putting one of them on the roof probably wouldn’t have worked. He smiled, even though no one was there to see it. Maybe he’d get something more little kid friendly. Just in case.

Not a _minivan_ , though.

><><><><><>

The call came in around nine o’clock, and Peter was smiling when he reached for his phone. He had had a fun time with Tony that afternoon, and appreciated the effort that the man seemed to be making to atone for being such an asshat the evening that they’d spent on the sofa. Almost making out. Peter didn’t count the few kisses that they’d shared as any too serious, of course, but it had been exciting. Right up until it hadn’t been, of course. Tony was just as exciting and sexy as he’d written him, so many times, and unfortunately could be just as big of a prick, at times, too.

Peter knew that he should have expected it, though, and it was on him that he had projected his own fantasies about Tony Stark onto the real version, and had expected that version to be the man that had materialized on his sofa.

“Hello?”

_“Hey.”_ Sure enough it was Tony. Peter was going to have to put him in his caller ID and contacts, if things went well and he though there might be a chance of another call, sometime. _“Is this a good time?”_

“Yeah. Thanks. Parker’s been asleep for about an hour.”

_“What are you doing?”_

“Writing. _Kind_ _of_.”

_“Little kid stuff?”_ Tony asked him _. “Or naughty, fun, stuff?”_

“At the moment, neither,” Peter admitted. “I’m doing some research.”

_“Oooo…”_ Tony’s voice sounded even more interested _. “On what? Something to do with Kyle and Tony?”_

The younger man smiled, even though he couldn’t see it.

“On the _moon_.”

_“You can’t send Kyle and Tony to the moon.”_

“I was thinking Jack and Snaps.”

_“Ugh.”_ There was a sound that might have been playful frustration. _“Why are you so wholesome, Peter Parker?”_

“It’s part of my charm.”

_“That’s true. What are you looking up?”_

“The surface. I’m going to send them there in a cardboard box spaceship, and I want to know what they’ll be finding. My physical science days were a long time ago, so I figured I’d better check so I didn’t get it wrong and hear from some angry astronaut.”

_“Has that happened, before?”_ Tony asked, curiously. _“Someone contacting you to complain?”_

“Of course. One time, when Jack and Snaps went searching for Bigfoot, I had an actual Bigfoot hunter send me an email telling me I had the description wrong.”

“And he knew because…?”

“Because he has a Bigfoot skin rug in front of his fireplace in his cabin and claimed to have come upon an entire group of them hibernating in a cave, once.”

Stark snorted, amused.

_“Really?”_

“That’s what I was told. He didn’t mention why he didn’t take pictures, and I didn’t ask.”

_“What a nut job.”_

“They’re out there, that’s for sure. I get a few for my fanfiction stories, too, though – especially if I get something wrong with the techniques I have someone employ.”

_“Really?”_

“Yeah. Nothing too serious. Not enough to keep me from writing.”

_“Can you talk, now?”_ Tony asked _. “Or am I distracting you?”_

“You’re distracting me,” Peter told him. “But I don’t mind. I can use the break – and the distraction. What have you been doing?”

_“Worked on a new suit for a while. Then reread some of your stories – and just finished up the Secret Keeper one and thought I’d call and get more spoilers.”_

“There isn’t much to give you,” Peter told him. “The next update will be some domestic fluff.”

_“I love that domestic fluff.”_

“I do, too,” Peter agreed. “I’ve never experienced it, before, really, but it’s soothing to write.”

_“I think you’re a romantic at heart,”_ Tony said, and Peter could hear the smile in his tone, even if he couldn’t see it. _“Tell me what you’re thinking about having them do. Tony’s going to hurt Kyle’s feelings, right? By saying something stupid? He’ll have to make it up to him, eventually. Maybe I can help you by telling you if it’s something that Tony Stark would really want to do…”_

The young man smiled.

“I was thinking that I’d have him wait hand and foot on Kyle,” he said. “At his apartment. Dressed in some kind of sexy French Maid’s outfit. And he’d feed him grapes. And pleasure him orally in between doing the dishes and vacuuming…”

There was a lengthy pause on the other side of the phone, and Peter was hard-pressed to keep from snickering. He wished he could see Tony’s expression. Finally the other man spoke, and Peter could hear that he was amused – although definitely not as much as Peter was.

_“I’m not going to wear a maid’s outfit. That is not a kink of mine.”_

“But the _rest_?”

_“If I’d done – or said – something hurtful and wanted to make it up to him? Absolutely. Yes to all of it. And more.”_

“Really?”

_“Yes, Peter.”_

They both understood that he wasn’t talking about the fictional Tony or the even more fictional Kyle, just then.

“I’ll keep that in mind…” He shook his head, and then switched the conversation a little. “What kind of domestic fluff do you want to see in this next update?” he asked. “Anything in particular?”

There was a slight hesitation and Tony must have realized that Peter didn’t want to continue the topic from earlier. He didn’t mind, though, and the next reply was centered back toward Kyle, once more, and the Tony Stark that hadn’t been dumb enough to say something stupid and get himself kicked out of a bed before he’d managed to talk his way into it.

It wasn't the same kind of conversation, but as they talked, they both found that they did have many things that they agreed on – and even had some things in common.

It was a pleasant way to pass an evening when they couldn’t be in the same place.


	13. 13

“Do you really know Tony Stark?”

Peter frowned, looking at his aunt, surprised.

“How did you know about Tony?”

“Angie told me she met him.”

“Oh. Yeah, I met him at the last book signing.”

May Parker raised an eyebrow in disbelief – and smiled when Parker giggled. He didn’t _speak_ , but the little boy was fairly vocal, otherwise, and they all loved it when he laughed.

“You met him at your book signing?”

“Yes. Apparently, he’s a big fan. He has the entire collection,” he added, truthfully – even though he hadn’t actually seen it for himself in person. He _did_ happen to have a picture, though, that Tony had sent to him the other night. They hadn’t seen each other since the day in the park, almost a week before, but they talked on the phone every night after Peter put Parker to bed. The conversations ranged from perfectly mundane conversations about what each had done during the day, and how Parker was doing, all the way to conversations that were laced with so much sexual tension that Peter would find himself often in a state of arousal by the time the call ended. Tony was just too sexy, and his voice alone was all it took to have Peter hard, really. He pulled his phone, flipping through the pictures until he found the one that he was looking for, and held it up for her. “See?”

“Wow.” She looked impressed, and then looked down at Parker. “Did _you_ meet him, too?”

The boy nodded, grinning, and held his hands up, wanting to be picked up.

“He took us to lunch,” Peter told his aunt when she complied. Then he handed his phone to his son so he could play with it – after locking the screen to protect his apps. “At _McDonald’s_.”

“Oooo, fancy.”

“Right?” Peter kissed Parker, and took his phone back. “You’re going to keep him all weekend?”

“We’re going to take him to the farm.”

It was a place Peter knew well. Owned by a friend of Ben’s, and not too far out of the city, it had a couple of horses, a cow, some chickens, and a lot of dogs and cats. Peter had been there many times as a youngster, himself, and Parker loved it there. Enough so that the young man was thinking that he might, eventually, move them to a little farm, too. Except that it was a lot of work and upkeep, and he didn’t really like the idea of being responsible for more lives than his and Parker’s, truth be told.

He was busy enough, already, after all.

“Call if you need me.”

“You could still come with us.”

Peter smiled, but shook his head.

“I promised I’d start the early sketches for the new story,” he reminded her. “If I don’t have something to show for a weekend of Parker free time, Roger will skin me.”

“You know where to find us if you change your mind.”

He nodded, and kissed his son, again.

“You be good, little man.”

Parker grinned and kissed him, noisily, and May left, carrying the child in one arm, and the backpack filled with things for him in the other.

Peter closed the door behind them, and sighed, missing his boy, already. He headed into the kitchen to finish the dishes that May’s arrival had interrupted, rinsing them and putting them into the dishwasher to wash at a later time. He was just turning on the water to start, and frowned when the doorbell rang.

“Did you forget something?” he asked going to the door and reaching for the knob. “You didn’t have to ring the-“ he stopped. It wasn’t May and Parker on the front porch, it was Tony Stark. “Tony.”

“Hey.” The man smiled, looking just a little nervous, but amazing, as always. “I was in the neighborhood, and thought I’d stop by.”

“Oh.” They both knew he was never in the neighborhood, really. Which meant that he’d come, specifically, to see Peter. That was a nice surprise, since he hadn’t mentioned coming over when Peter and he had been talking on the phone the evening before. “Come in.”

“Thanks.” Tony walked in, moving so Peter could close the door behind them. “Are you busy?”

“My aunt just picked up Parker. He’s going to a family friend’s farm this weekend. I’m going to do our lunch dishes, catch up on the laundry, and then work on some sketches for the new book.”

“Do you need me to leave?”

It was nice of him to ask, Peter decided, rather than just assume that he had time to put all of that aside and entertain company. In response, Peter shook his head.

“You can keep me company while I do the dishes.”

“Sure.” Tony took off his suit jacket, draped it over the chair in front of Peter’s desk and followed the younger man into the kitchen. “What was for lunch?”

“SpaghettiOs and sandwiches.”

“Ugh. Canned pasta?”

“Parker likes it,” Peter pointed out as he started rinsing the dishes. There weren’t too many, of course, but the pasta sauce was determined to stain on everything, and Peter knew it from experience. He'd already soaked the kettle he’d warmed it up in. “Besides, it’s easy, and that’s definitely a consideration with a guy like him.”

Tony opened the dishwasher, taking the dishes that had already been rinsed and those that didn’t need to be and started loading it.

“That makes sense, I suppose. Can you cook?”

“I’m learning. In college it was ramen and mac and cheese – or fast food. Now I can make some simple things – the things that Parker likes. Luckily, he isn’t a picky kid. You?”

“Of course.” Tony put the pan in the dishwasher and closed it, deciding that the thing wasn't full enough to run the load, yet. “I’m an excellent cook. And, if you’re interested, I’ll prove it by making you dinner, tonight.”

Peter dried his hands on a dishtowel and then handed it to Tony.

“You’re not busy?”

“No. I want to spend time with you. I was hoping to spend time with you and _Parker_ – to get to know him better, too, but it might be better if it’s just the two of us, right now.”

“Oh?”

“If we’re alone I can make up to you for being an ass.”

Peter felt his heart start to pound a little faster.

“Oh.”

Tony stepped up to him, more comfortable, now, after having spent the week talking to him daily. Even if it was only on the phone, and only a few times with video chats. He was also very much aware of the fact that Peter wasn’t going to make the first move with him. He didn’t have the experience, and he was more timid about voicing what he wanted than Tony was. Stark was more than willing to take the lead in their fledgling relationship, but he also wanted to make sure that he didn’t do anything to scare him – or scare him away.

“This isn’t a booty call, honey,” he assured the young man. “I don’t expect you to allow me into your bed, tonight. But we discussed how the Tony Stark in your story would make it up to Kyle if he’d done something – or said something like I said to you – and I’m good with that. More than good with it, really. What do you think?”

Peter licked lips suddenly gone dry.

“I don’t know…” he admitted. “I’m not sure what to do.”

“You let me take care of you,” Tony said, smiling, reassuringly. He reached for the younger man’s hand. “I know you have a lot to do, but I’m in the mood to cuddle, and it’s a good way to get more comfortable with each other. Interested?”

He should say no. He _did_ have a lot to do, of course. But Peter had been writing Tony and Kyle fluff for a while, now, living vicariously through the story, and their actions. It was incredibly tempting to experience some of it, first hand.

“Yes.”

He let Tony lead him to the couch and push him down onto it. Stark followed, kicking off his shoes, easily, and then settling beside Peter, an arm going around behind him.

“Relax, Peter,” he said, softly. “It’s just sitting.”

“Yeah.”

He was good at sitting, right? Very much aware of the man beside him, and what he’d described happening between Kyle and Tony of the fanfiction, Peter shivered, just a little.

“Good.” Whether he meant the trembling, or just that Peter had agreed, Tony didn’t expound on it. Instead, he pulled Peter a little closer, until the young man was nestled against his side, and with his free hand he picked up the remote, turning the TV on and changing the channel to the first movie that wasn’t a cartoon. “Relax.”

“I _am_.”

He wasn’t, really, but when nothing happened, immediately, Peter began to do just that. He leaned a little more into the warmth of the other man, and was rewarded with a gentle kiss against his temple, which made him smile. He was so relaxed, for that matter, that he didn’t notice right away when Tony’s hand found his leg, and then began moving up his thigh until the billionaire was cupping the gentle swelling of the front of Peter’s jeans.

“Shhhh…” Tony crooned, softly, when he felt the young man tense. “It’s fine. Nothing to panic about. Just touching.”

It was a bit more than that, Peter decided, looking down and watching, breathlessly, as Tony’s palm rubbed lightly against Peter’s zipper, somehow able to discern where the head of Peter’s cock was through the denim and concentrate on caressing it. Peter made a soft noise of approval, and Tony unbuttoned the jeans and tugged the zipper down, exposing the younger man’s briefs – and the bulge of eager flesh that was hidden by them.

“Lift up, honey,” Tony ordered.

Peter did as he was told and Tony slide his jeans and underwear down. He slid Peter’s shoes off, and socks, jeans and underwear all landed in the same pile next to the coffee table, leaving Peter naked from the waist down, and Tony looking down at him with approval.

“That’s delicious,” he said, his hand lightly stroking the shaft of Peter’s now swollen cock. He moved his gaze to the younger man’s, but his hand didn’t stop what it was doing. “So if Kyle and Tony were in this position in your story, what would happen, next?”

Peter’s mouth was dry, but he was quickly getting into the odd idea of the roleplay – and understanding that Tony was asking him what he wanted him to do, just then.

“Tony would kiss him.”

Stark did just that, leaning over and pressing a delicate kiss against Peter’s lips that deepened, just a little, when the young man moaned at the sensation. His hand tightened, lightly, around Peter’s shaft and his thumb teased the slit at the tip. Tony’s tongue brushed against Peter’s lower lip and it parted without hesitation allow him better access to Peter’s tongue. He teased it with his own for a moment, and then had to pull away to breathe.

“You still have too many clothes on,” Tony told him.

“Yeah.”

Stark moved back, freeing his other hand from behind Peter. He took hold of the t-shirt he was wearing and pulled it up and off when Peter lifted his arms to help.

“Jesus…”

“What?”

Tony was looking at Peter’s body. The amazing body that was so perfectly muscled. Not heavily muscled, but every line showed, crisply, and the chest was incredibly defined, as were the abs. The young man was perfectly proportioned, and it was so hot, looking at him like he was.

“How much time do you spend in the gym?”

“None,” Peter admitted. “Don’t get distracted. The story’s getting good.”


	14. 14

Tony chuckled, and turned his attention back to Peter’s cock.

“I’m going to taste you,” he said. “You’re okay with that, right?”

“Yes.”

Like he was going to say _no_?

“Good.”

He couldn’t help but brush several butterfly kisses against Peter’s chest, first, however, and then he shifted on the sofa, moving so that he could work his way down the young man’s belly, his chin brushing the tip of Peter’s cock, making him gasp, softly and take a handful of Tony’s hair.

“Damn…”

Another chuckle.

“Don’t hurt me,” Tony chided, dipping his head and taking the head of Peter’s cock into his mouth.

Despite the warning, Peter’s grip tightened, at first, and he was forced to relax it as Tony began to lavish attention on his cock. He made an approving noise that ended in a gasp when Tony took him all the way into his mouth and somewhat down his throat.

“Fuck…”

Tony pulled back, looking up at him, his chin wet with drool and his eyes amused.

“Is it as good as you thought it would be when you wrote it?”

“Yeah.”

“I want to taste you, Peter. Are you alright with that?”

“Taste me? What do – oh.” His cock twitched at the thought of Tony sucking him to a climax. He’d written that scene a hundred times, it seemed, and had – of course – put himself in that position in his mind, and when he’d drawn the same thing happening. That it was actually happening? Or was going to? “You want to?” he asked, in disbelief.

“Yes.” Tony was stroking him, making sure that he stayed nice and hard for him. “But I did tell you I wouldn’t do anything that you didn’t want me to do.”

“Oh.”

“Well?” Stark kissed him, just a soft brush of lips on lips, before pulling back. “I’ve never had to beg someone to suck them, honey. Don’t make me start with you.”

“No. I mean, yes. Suck me, Tony. As much as you want.”

The older man bent to his task and Peter leaned back into the cushion of the sofa, and closed his eyes, savoring the sensation of getting his first blowjob – at least as far as he knew it was. He thought about talking dirty to Tony, stroking his hair like he’d written about doing, but every time he started to open his mouth, the other man seemed to find some new way to make him moan and the words would get strangled and not come out. Instead, his hips started rocking, slightly, of their own accord as he fucked Tony Stark’s mouth eagerly and began to build to climax.

Tony was experienced enough to know what was happening before it happened, and he took a firm hold on Peter’s hips, slurping and sucking, and then focusing on the boy’s head, alone, before taking him back, deep. With a moan that might have been intended to be a warning, Peter climaxed and drove his cock upward, forcing Tony to take hold to keep from being choked, even as he swallowed Peter down, eagerly, taking his first taste of the other man and savoring it for what it was.

Peter gave a soft groan.

“I know this is going to sound stupid, but that was incredible.”

Tony took a final taste of the younger man’s cock, and then moved up on him so that he could kiss him again before he shifted to cuddle next to him.

“Nothing stupid about that. I wanted it to be incredible.”

“Now what?”

“Depends on you. You’re writing the story.”

“You’d really do anything I want?”

“Yes.”

“And I can do anything I want?”

“Yes, Peter.”

The younger man slid his hand along Tony’s stomach, and then lower, brushing his fingertips against the bulge that was barely concealed under his slacks.

“Get undressed.”

Despite the assurance, he was still somewhat surprised when Tony stood up.

“Are you sure?” he asked, looking down at him, his hand on his belt buckle. “I told myself that I wouldn’t get naked – to allow this to be all about you.”

“I want to see you,” Peter told him, his hand sliding down to his own cock, which was still somewhat erect. “I want to play with you, too. And taste you.”

“Jesus Christ, Peter.”

“It isn’t a booty call, though,” Peter told him, repeating what Stark had said. “I’m not sure that I’m ready for that.”

“If you’re not sure, then it’s certain that you aren’t ready for it,” Tony agreed. “I’m fine with playing, Peter. Especially with you.” He pulled his shirt off, revealing a thicker body than Peter’s, with muscular arms and chest, and the casing for his nanotech. Peter watched with interest as Tony pulled that off, as well, wincing when he lost a couple of chest hairs in the process, and then unbuckled his belt. “I’ll warn you, now, though,” the billionaire said as he undid his pants. “I’m eager as fuck to see you writhing under me.”

That made Peter smile, and Tony dropped his slacks to the floor, his silk boxers following a moment later. The older man watched as Peter’s eyes roamed his body, stopping at his midsection, and Tony went back to the couch, kneeling on it with one knee beside Peter’s leg while he leaned over him to kiss him, again.

It was much more intimate with both of them undressed, and Peter could feel the rigid flesh that was actually pressing against his stomach. As his mouth opened for Tony’s tongue, his hand found its way between their bodies and it was Tony who moaned into the kiss when Peter’s fingers closed around the shaft of his throbbing cock.

“Just don’t mess up and call me _Kyle_ ,” Peter told him with a smile.

“Never.” Stark slowly thrust his cock into the boy’s grasp, fucking Peter’s hand and watching his reaction. “Stroke me, Peter,” he whispered, looking down between them to watch what was happening. “Fuck, that’s so hot. Make me cum all over you.”

It took surprisingly little time, really. Peter was young and that excited Tony. He was sexy, and that was exciting, too. The fact that Tony had been jerking off to Peter’s stories, putting himself into them each time and living each moment the fictional Tony Stark had spent with the young man Kyle as if it really _were_ him – although as soon as he’d met Peter, he’d had no trouble at all putting Peter’s face on the young man as he fucked him in every position imaginable in his mind. Tony buried his face in the crook between Peter’s neck and shoulder and his hips moved in a steady rhythm as Peter found his voice and began talking dirty to him.

“You want to fuck me, Tony?” he whispered, his thumb brushing the sensitive underside of Stark’s cock with each motion. “Want me under you? My legs wrapped around you, holding you closer with each thrust as you bury yourself deeper into me? You’re so fucking hard, Tony… filling my hand so well… just like you’ll fill me when you finally put me on my belly and shove-“

Tony grunted and climaxed, interrupting Peter’s tirade, and the young man’s hand and belly were drenched as Tony’s cock spasmed in his hand, shooting rope after rope of cum into the area between them. The bigger man’s arms went around Peter, then, and he held him, tightly, as he trembled above him, his hips still moving, but definitely coming down from his climax, although he was taking his time.

“Jesus…” he whispered. “You're pretty good at that for someone who’s never done it, before.”

“I’ve written it a million times,” Peter reminded him, turning his head and pressing a tender kiss against Tony’s ear, and marveling at the position he was in, just then. “The reality is so much better.”

“It often is,” Tony agreed. He took a deep breath, hitched his hips a few more times, and then pulled away, but kissed Peter as he did. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“A shower is in order,” the billionaire said, feeling as good as he could remember feeling in a very long time. “And then we’ll find something else to do to amuse ourselves.”

“I still have to start on those drawings,” Peter reminded him, even as he allowed Tony to take his hand and pull him to his feet. He was a little wobbly-kneed, just then. “I’ve committed to getting a sample to my publisher before the weekend is out.”

“Can I watch?” Tony asked, keeping Peter’s hand but reaching for his discarded clothing. “Or will it distract you.”

“No. I’d like that.”

“Great.”

Of course, Tony had every intention of having another taste of the young man while he had him in the shower. But that wouldn’t take all afternoon. Unless Peter _wanted_ it to, of course.


	15. 15

They spent the rest of the day on the couch.

Peter did his initial sketches with a pencil and paper, rather than doing it on his laptop, and Tony had been surprised when he’d pulled out a simple clipboard and some copy paper, then had taken a couple of pencils from his desk before settling himself on the sofa, leaning his back against Tony’s side. The young man was wearing sweats and a t-shirt, his curls damp, still, from the shower that they’d taken, and his body pleasantly satiated.

Tony was being as inobtrusive as possible, considering he had his head on Peter’s shoulder and his arm around him, possessively stroking his belly. Simply because he knew Peter wouldn’t mind that he was doing it. It was a little surreal to be fresh out of a shower – where he’d spent some time kneeling in front of Peter sucking on him – and was now watching as Peter drew pictures of a little boy and his overly intelligent dog building a space ship out of a refrigerator box, then launching themselves to the moon.

When he finished the first couple of sketches, Peter finally set the clipboard aside, and leaned into Tony, closing his eyes.

“Are you hungry?” Tony asked him, kissing him, lightly.

“I could eat,” Peter agreed. “You?”

“Starved.”

“Want some Spaghettios?”

Tony snorted, which made Peter smile.

“I’ll make dinner.”

“Oooo,” the younger man squeezed his hand and then got up, stretching his body and wiggling his stiff fingers to get them to stop aching. “Tony Stark, making me dinner? What are we having?”

“What do you have to work with?”

“Pretty simple fare, I have to admit.”

They walked into the kitchen, and Tony started rummaging through Peter’s pantry, muttering to himself while Peter leaned against the island and watched. A jar of sauce was handed to him, absently, as was a package of noodles.”

“You realize spaghetti isn’t that different from Spaghettios, right?” Peter pointed out, thoroughly enjoying the fact that he was allowed to admire Tony’s body while the man turned his attentions to the fridge to see what was in it, as well. Tony had dressed in his slacks and dress shirt, once more, once he’d dried off after their shower, but he was still incredibly sexy. More so, maybe, now that Peter knew what he looked like _under_ the clothes. “It just takes longer to cook.”

Tony pulled his head back from the fridge long enough to roll his eyes at the boy.

“Not the way I’m going to prepare it,” he told him. “You’ll see.” He pulled a few more ingredients from the fridge and gestured for Peter to have a seat out of the way. “To give the master some room.”

Then he found a large saucepan and a kettle to heat water. The one with the water was easy enough, but Peter had to force himself to hide his amusement when the billionaire struggled with the lid on the bottle jar, grunting and making the oddest faces while he tried to open it.

“Come on, Ironman,” Peter encouraged. “You can do it.”

“Cute.” Tony scowled. He’d left his housing on the coffee table, rather than put it back on when he’d dressed, so he couldn’t even activate the suit to give himself the extra boost. Maybe it would have been overkill, but it wouldn’t have been the first time. He offered the jar to Peter. “ _You_ try it, then, honey. If you can open it, I’ll let you top me.”

Peter raised an eyebrow at that, took the jar and opened it without difficulty.

“I might hold you to that,” he replied, smiling at the shock on Tony’s face.

“I _loosened_ it for you.” But he hadn’t, and he knew it. Peter was a lot stronger than that scrawny body looked. Obviously those muscles weren’t just for show. “Are you _sure_ you don’t work out?”

“I lift Parker a lot. He can get pretty heavy, sometimes.”

“Huh.”

The younger man’s eyes were amused.

“Don’t worry, Tony, I’ll be gentle.”

Stark rolled his eyes, and shook his head.

“We didn’t shake on it.”

“But you _did_ tell me that I could do anything…”

“Good point.” He shrugged, leaning over and kissing Peter, even though he had his hands full. “You can do anything to me. Even top me.”

Peter smiled.

“Have you ever done that?”

“Been topped?”

“Yes.”

“Of course.” He poured the sauce into the pan and started chopping some of the ingredients that he’d pulled from Peter’s fridge. “How would I know how to make someone feel good if I hadn’t had it done to me, first?”

“Porn?”

“It can only teach you so much,” Tony told him, smiling, too. “Just like fanfiction can give you the ability to see a scene in your mind, but unless you’ve lived it, you still don’t know how amazing it is. Like the blowjob on the couch.”

“And the one in the shower,” Peter added, realizing that he was absolutely correct. “Does it hurt?”

“Not if I do it, right.”

“Then you should probably be on top.”

“Good plan.” Another kiss and a look that made Peter feel warm inside from top to bottom. “But not tonight. Tonight I’m going to feed you and then you and I are going to have a long talk about boundaries and expectations.”

Peter was surprised.

“ _You’re_ going to discuss boundaries?” he asked. “You were stalking me at my own book signing.”

“I’m a complicated man,” Tony said, blandly. He stirred the sauce, adding oil to the water. “But even though you have limited practical experience in the bedroom, it’s important for me to know what interests you, most, and what absolutely doesn’t. That way I don’t frighten you if I do something you’re not ready for.”

“It’s more calculating than I expected it to be.”

“There’s nothing wrong with spontaneity,” Tony assured him. “But with a more experience partner. You might remember that for your stories.”

“I’m taking mental notes,” Peter replied.

Tony and he discussed Peter’s favorite topic while their dinner cooked; Parker.

Peter regaled the billionaire about stories of him getting to know his young son and the boy’s journey through the terrible twos. It had been a crazy time, but the two had come through them bonded and Peter could honestly tell Tony that he loved Parker more and more every day.

“He isn’t even close to what I had planned for my life,” Peter admitted as he seated himself at the table and allowed Tony to serve him a plate of pasta, sauce, and warm rolls. “But now I can’t see myself doing anything that doesn’t have him close at hand.”

“What did you plan on doing once you were out of school?” Tony asked, curiously.

“Write a book? Become the next George R. R. Martin? JK Rowling? Something that would keep me busy, but not be boring.” The young man smirked. “Maybe an internship at Stark Industries?”

The billionaire chuckled.

“Sure, because you have so much time to do that while raising your son.”

“Right?” He stopped and ate a few bites. “This is good.”

“Don’t look so surprised,” Tony told him. “I told you I’m a good cook.”

“Would you ever admit to being bad at something?” Peter asked, pointedly.

“Of course not. Is Parker coming home, tonight?”

“No. He’ll be with May and Ben until Sunday morning.”

“Can I stay the night?”

“Where are you going to sleep?”

“In your bed.”

“Where am I sleeping?”

“In your bed.”

“But we’re not having sex?”

“It depends on your definition of sex. I intend for us to both be naked and enjoy ourselves. A repeat of earlier, and maybe some other things like that.”

“Yes. You can stay the night. If you want.”

“You doubt it?”

“No.”

He was sure that there was definitely an interest on Tony’s part. The man had made it clear that he was interested in Peter sexually, and because he wanted to know what happened in the story that Peter was writing. How long that interest would last once he’d finished the Secret Keeper story, and once the novelty of having Peter in his bed wore off would be another matter, entirely. But Peter understood that. This wasn’t one of his stories, after all, and as creative as he was, try though he might, he couldn’t see a happy ending for the three of them. But they could have their fun and part amicably. Peter was fine with that.

And Parker might get a thrill out of meeting Ironman, once he figured out that that was who Tony was, sometimes.

“Good.” Tony smiled. “Eat, honey.”


	16. 16

It turned out that they had to go to Tony’s once they were finished eating and they’d done the dishes. He didn’t have anything to wear aside from the suit that he’d been wearing when he showed up on Peter’s front porch, and that wasn’t going to work for the next day, as well. Peter’s clothes weren’t going to fit Tony, so he couldn’t just borrow something, either.

“Just long enough for me to get some clothes,” Tony assured the younger man as he opened the car door for him. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

“It’s fine, Tony,” Peter said, running his hand along the leather of the seat that he found himself in. The car was amazing. “I don’t have anything that I _have_ to do, tonight. Just spend time with you.”

Which made the billionaire smile as he got behind the wheel.

“But spending time _driving_ isn’t what I have in mind.”

“We could have our discussion, though, couldn’t we?” Peter asked. “Or was it supposed to be in bed, naked?”

“No. That is a conversation best had when we’re both fully clothed, so I don’t feel like I’m talking you into agreeing to something that you’re not interested in doing.”

“Like what?”

Tony started the car and pulled out of Peter’s little driveway, the sportscar out of place in the middle class neighborhood where everyone had a minivan or a compact car.

“Well, that depends on _you_. I’ve read all of your stories, and you’ve covered a wide variety of fetishes and kinks. How many of them are actually things that _you’re_ interested in – or things that you’re absolutely _not_ interested it?”

“Interested in writing is different than interested in _trying_ ,” Peter said, thinking through some of the things that he had written. “Blowjobs are a _definite_ yes, though.”

Tony smiled, keeping his eyes on the road, but nodded his agreement.

“Yes.”

“All kidding aside from earlier, I don’t know if I’d like to be a top. I’ve never given it a lot of thought. Being small like I am, I just assumed the littler guy is the bottom.”

“Not necessarily. Or, they could be, but they are a power bottom. Meaning they are the dominant person in the relationship. There’s nothing demeaning about being the one on the receiving end, honey,” Stark told him. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be interested in being under you. It’s a matter of preference. I _will_ warn you, though, that there are a lot of fictional stories out there that have me with a daddy kink, and I’m not really into that.”

“You aren’t?”

“For roleplay, yes, I’m willing. But as a _lifestyle_? No. I want to dominate my partner in bed, but I want to share the responsibility of making decisions outside of the bedroom, and while I’m perfectly willing to buy you anything you want – or that Parker may want – I don’t need to be called daddy to do it. That’s just what a boyfriend does. Makes sense?”

Peter hesitated, somewhat stuck on the word boyfriend, and decided that Tony didn’t actually mean that he was considering himself in the role. He was just using it for conversation’s sake.

“Yeah. That’s kind of a relief, actually. I’m _already_ a daddy, really, even though Parker’s never called me that. It would only be confusing to be saying it all the time, too.”

“We _can_ roleplay it, though,” Tony said, again. “I’m not against the idea, in the bedroom. Especially if it’s something that you’re interested in.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“What else, Peter? What do you write about that gets you so hard you have to stop and take care of things before you can go back to writing?”

The younger man blushed.

“You won’t laugh?”

“No.”

“I want to be told what to do. As long as it’s something that I _want_ to do, I mean.”

“So you want to be dominated.”

“I think so, yes. And the size difference is exciting to me,” he added in a rush. “I like being smaller like I am in comparison to you. It’s exciting. You couldn’t actually make me do anything that I didn’t want to do, but the _idea_ that you can is exciting to me. Does that make sense?”

“Yes. And it goes well with my enjoyment of taking the lead. Normally I would want to be in charge, anyway. In this instance, it sounds like you would enjoy that, also.”

“Yes. I think so.”

“Spanking?”

“Maybe in the heat of things? Nothing too serious. I’m not a fan of pain.”

“Alright. Bondage?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe? It’d be another way to make me do what you wanted, right?”

“Yes. It isn’t for everyone, but we could play with it, a little, if you’re interested.”

“Alright.”

They continued the conversation as they drove to Tony’s apartment. Not surprising Peter at all, the place was incredible. And filled with all kinds of technology that made the younger man’s head turn in seemingly every direction at once.

“You have robots?”

“Helper robots, yes.”

“What do they help with?”

“Everything.”

“Cooking?”

“Okay, not everything. Everything technological.”

“That’s impressive.”

“Everything about me is impressive, honey,” he said, pulling off his jacket and then taking Peter’s hand. “Let me prove it to you.”

He led Peter to his bedroom, and turned as they walked through the door, stopping him with a hand on his chest and stepping up to kiss him, soundly. His tongue pressed against Peter’s lips, demanding entrance, and the young man complied, immediately, with a soft groan as Tony walked him backward until the back of his legs hit the edge of the bed, and then he found himself pushed, and was soon laying on his back, Tony covering him, a knee between his own, and his legs being nudged apart to make room for the other man.

Stark broke the kiss, and pushed Peter’s shirt up, baring stomach and chest, and dipped his head to run his tongue, lazily, along Peter’s skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps everywhere his mouth went.

“I’m going to fuck you so good, honey,” Tony crooned, sliding Peter’s shirt up and over his head and tossing it to the floor. “You’re going to be writhing under me, begging me to go deeper, to go faster… Begging me to let you cum. Crying until I take your cock in my mouth and suck you down, giving you the release you’re so desperate for.”

Peter arched against his touch, the words arousing him as much – if not more – that the hands that were caressing his bare skin, leaving him aching with need, despite the earlier activities at his house.

“Please, Tony…”

“You need me, Peter?”

“Yes.”

The billionaire sat up, maintaining his spot between those long legs and unbuttoned his shirt, watching Peter under him.

“You’re so sexy,” he said, his voice low and his eyes warm. “Just the perfect size for me. Perfect under me like you are. Legs open for me to do whatever I want to do.”

“Yes…”

His shirt went the same direction that Peter’s had, but he didn’t disengage the housing for the nanotech for his suit. Instead, he leaned over, again, and kissed the young man, hungrily, as he put his arms around him and brought him to a sitting position, with his legs now around Tony’s hips. There was a noticeable swelling in Peter’s jeans, and it made him smile, tenderly, at him when he broke the kiss.

“Yes,” he murmured, holding Peter close for a moment. “I’d say you _definitely_ have a kink for being dominated.”

Peter chuckled, weakly, as he realized what Tony had been doing. The older man had promised him that they weren’t going to have sex, but he’d definitely proven to Peter that it would be a simple thing – probably – to get him to let him have his way with him.

“I wonder if it’s being dominated in particular,” he said, raggedly. “Or if it’s being dominated by _you_ , specifically.”

Which was a good question, Tony realized. And one that told him Peter was very much aware of the fascination that Tony held for him.

“That’s a question that will have to remain unanswered,” he said, firmly, sliding his big hands along the young man’s back and then down to cup his ass through his jeans. “I’m not going to let someone else in and allow them to try it with you. I don’t share.”

“Good.” He smiled, kissing Tony’s chest as he felt himself beginning to relax a little. “I’m not interested in the idea of sharing, either.”

“I’m going to get changed and pack an overnight bag. Are you alright?”

“Yes.”

He let Tony go and the older man smiled at him, again.

“You _are_ sexy, Peter. Don’t ever doubt it. I meant everything I said to you.”


	17. 17

Peter stayed where he was, sitting on Tony’s bed, watching as Stark pulled a small leather bag from his closet, opened a drawer and pulled out socks and underwear, and then another drawer where he pulled two pair of jeans from. One went into the bag, and the other was tossed onto the bed near Peter. Then the process was repeated with a couple of long-sleeved t-shirts. Tony vanished into his bathroom, returning with a toothbrush and a few toiletries. These went into the bag, as well, and the older man carried it over to the bed, where he set it near the other clothing.

Peter watched as Tony dropped his pants and stepped out of them, and reached for the jeans. The younger man smiled and caught them up before Tony could, pulling them back out of his reach.

“We could play a little, first…” he said, looking up at him. “Couldn’t we?”

“Do you _want_ to play, Peter?” Tony asked, his eyes darkening with interest. Standing like he was, he was able to move closer to Peter, and wearing nothing but silk boxers, there was no hiding that he was interested. “Do you want to have your way with me? Do you want to allow me to have my way with you?”

“Jesus, Tony,” the young man complained, sliding his hand along Stark’s abdomen and then lower. “That’s so _hot_ …”

“Yeah.” Stark pushed Peter’s hand aside, gently, and then lowered his boxers, freeing his cock, which was already somewhat aroused. “Lay back, honey,” he ordered, pushing the smaller man back, until Peter was sprawled on his back once more, looking up at him. Tony followed, straddling one knee on either side of Peter’s bare torso, just under his armpits. While Peter watched, Tony stroked himself, playing with his cock until it filled his hand, and then some. “Open your mouth for me.”

When the boy complied, Tony shifted, guiding the head of his cock to Peter’s lower lip, tapping it, lightly, a few times, just because it was sexy as fuck to see Peter’s tongue trying to catch it.

“Don’t tease me, Tony.”

“Oh, I’m going to tease you _often_ ,” Stark promised him. Whatever Peter might have said was cut off when Tony pushed himself into that welcoming heat, sighing with undisguised pleasure when Peter’s mouth closed around him. “That’s good, honey,” he crooned, looking down at the younger man with approval. “Suck me.”

Pinned under Tony’s weight – although he knew that the billionaire had purposely allowed his hands to be free – Peter did as he was told. It was exciting. The texture of the man. The taste of him as he slowly and carefully fucked Peter’s mouth, allowing his cock to slide deeper with each gentle thrust, Peter’s lips tensing around the thick rod of flesh with each motion. He brought his hands up to grasp Tony’s ass, a handful of flesh in each keeping him centered as he pleasured the man above him. Trying to make him climax with tongue and lips, alone. Applying just enough suction each time Tony pulled back, letting him use him for his own needs.

Calling on what little practical experience he had gained with him back at his house, Peter did what he could to make it good for Tony, and the noises that the other man was making – and the looks that he was giving him – were proof that it was working. His jaw was a little sore by the time the older man suddenly tensed and pulled back, just a little.

“Ready, baby?” he asked, harsh with excitement. “I’m going to fill you up.”

Peter’s grip on his ass was all the reply that he received, but it was enough. With a soft grunt, Tony climaxed, his cock spasming as he pushed himself into Peter’s welcoming mouth, but was careful not to go too deep, just then, not wanting to frighten the neophyte with anything too unexpected. Tony watched with approval as Peter’s lips closed on him, his throat working as he swallowed him, and his eyes showing no indication of anything but eagerness as he took what Tony gave him and worked his tongue around the head to find more.

“You’re getting good at that,” Tony told his young lover as he regretfully pulled away, but shifted so he could kiss him, gently.

Peter smiled, blushing, slightly, at the compliment.

“Practice makes perfect, right?”

Tony chuckled, and sighed with satisfaction, enjoying the sight of Peter under him while his cock loomed over him, still dribbling onto his chin and neck.

“That, it does.” He pulled away, moving so he wasn’t straddling him, now. “Let’s get those pants off,” he said, reaching for the young man’s jeans. “And I’ll show you how much I appreciate the attention.”

“Good idea.”

><><><><><>

They went back to Peter’s.

_Eventually_.

Tony offered _his_ apartment, pointing out that they were already there and were comfortable. His clothes would be baggy on Peter, but they would fit him, if he wanted to spend the night, there, instead. Peter appreciated the offer, but if anything happened with Parker, May and Ben would be expecting to find him at his house. Not at Tony Stark’s. So they’d put their clothes back on, reluctantly, and Tony had driven them back to Peter’s.

It was late by the time they arrived, and Peter’s day was catching up with him. Not just the way it started, running around and chasing after an excited little boy, but Tony had spent a lot of time working Peter’s cock with his mouth, driving him to one orgasm and then relentlessly forcing another one on him before he’d finally pulled Peter into his arms to hold him while the young man caught his breath.

“Midnight snack?” Stark asked, pulling his light sweatshirt off as they walked through the front door.

He was pretty pleased with the way the afternoon and evening had gone – and why not? He hadn’t actually claimed Peter’s ass, but he was going to, eventually. It was going to be amazing, he knew, and well worth taking his time and making sure the younger man was comfortable with him.

“No. Thank you. I’m going to bed.”

“Alone?” Tony asked, unwilling to assume and be shot down, despite their earlier conversation. “Or do I get to join you?”

“The other options you have are the couch – or Parker’s bed,” Peter told him, making Stark smile. “The couch is comfortable, enough, but Parker’s bed is a back breaker.”

“I’ll sleep with you.”

He allowed the younger man to lead him into his bedroom, and while he did enjoy undressing Peter, and sliding his hands along that perfect body, he didn’t allow things to get heated. For one thing, _he_ was tired, too. For another, his cock was a little sore, really, from all the recent activity. He was ready for bed. Not for hot, steamy sex.

“We’re not doing anything, right?” Peter asked as Tony held the blankets back and gestured for him to get into bed, first.

“Not tonight,” Tony confirmed. “That was the promise, right?”

“Yes.” Peter snuggled right up against Tony’s bigger, warmer, body and Tony heard him sigh when he put his arms around him and pulled him even closer. “I’ve never really done this, you know…”

“We’re not _doing_ anything,” Stark reminded him, brushing a kiss against his temple as he pulled the blankets up around their naked bodies. “Just holding each other.”

“That’s what I meant.”

“Oh.” He smiled, because while _he_ had, of course, enjoyed the arms of many lovers after a passionate round of vigorous fucking, Tony couldn’t remember the last time he’d simply cuddled someone, not expecting anything from them, or giving anything more to them than what he was giving Peter, just then. “It’s drawing a parallel to your story, isn’t it?”

Peter smiled, too.

“Yeah.” He slid his hand down Tony’s side, along his hip and stopped at the swell of Stark’s ass. “The big reveal is coming. I wonder how Tony’s going to take it.”

“What did you decide Kyle can do?”

“I was thinking that he is super strong,” Peter replied, sleepily. “That’s a common super ability, right?”

“Steve Rogers is super strong,” Tony agreed. “But we know how he came to his abilities. What about Kyle? Did he fall into a vat of radioactive goop?”

“No. An accident in a lab. An explosion that spread radiation that mutated his cells, causing them to be more efficient. Stronger.”

“But he’s not super muscular, right?” Tony asked. “He’s a little guy.”

“Like me,” the boy said, closing his eyes, sleepily. “Unassuming, but hiding what he can do.”

He was falling asleep in his arms, but Tony wondered at the wording.

“What can you do, Peter?” he asked, tenderly.

“Lots of things…”

Peter drifted off, asleep in Tony’s arms.

The billionaire stayed awake a little longer, making a mental list of all the amazing abilities the young man in his arms had already proven to possess. He was cute – which wasn’t really an ability, Tony knew. He was smart. Not as smart as Tony, of course, but intelligent, and creative. And he had a real job. He wrote books, and illustrated them. And wrote amazing porn. Tony thought that Peter Parker was one of the most well-rounded people that he’d ever met. And he was raising a son! He shook his head.

Yeah, the guy was pretty special.

He fell asleep, too.


	18. 18

Peter was sitting at his desk when Tony came out from his bedroom.

The billionaire had woken and had automatically reached for the younger man, only to find the spot beside him empty. And cold, which told Tony that he’d been gone a while. He frowned, looking at his watch. It was still early – and a _weekend_. Stark made it a point to not actually start his Saturdays until after ten. Later, even, if he’d had a lot to drink the night before – or had been up late at a party, or something. He stretched, feeling pleased with how the evening before had gone. True, he hadn’t actually had sex with Peter, but oral was always pleasant, and Peter was a quick study. It had been pleasant, to say the least, and he ached, just a little – which was always nice.

Tony decided to get up and see what his host was doing.

He was tempted – _very tempted_ – to just walk out into the living room as he was, naked. Just for the shock value. Common sense prevailed, though, and he realized that there was always a chance that Peter wasn’t alone. He lived in a regular neighborhood, after all, and for all Tony knew the guy had Tupperware parties every Saturday morning. Tony Stark walking into the middle of a group of people naked might be amusing to him – and maybe it _was_ a little, he admitted – but he was sure Peter wouldn’t appreciate the humor in it, and he was certain _Pepper_ wouldn’t let him hear the end of it if a photo somehow leaked.

He stretched, again, feeling pretty good (something to be said for spending Friday night actually sleeping, he supposed) and rifled through his overnight bag, pulling out underwear and a pair of lounge pants, rather than jeans. He wasn’t so sure that he was ready to start his day, after all, and maybe he could talk Peter into abandoning the Tupperware party and going back to bed for a while.

“Good morning,” Peter said, smiling at just how rumpled the older man looked. And how _delicious_. Bare-chested and messy bedhead, eyes still sleepy and soft. Amazing. “There’s coffee.”

“Why are you up so early?”

“Because I have things to do.”

“Like what?”

He didn’t see anyone else there, so the Tupperware party thing must have been a bust. As if in reply, though, somewhere in the area of the kitchen there was a soft ding, and Peter got to his feet.

“Laundry, for one.”

Tony followed the younger man into the kitchen, leaning against the island while Peter went into the back porch – which presumably had the washer and dryer – and returned a minute later with a laundry basket filled with clothes. Brightly colored ones, which made Tony assume most of them were Parker’s. Peter set the basket on the island and then dumped it out, the clothes spilling into a pile in front of the two men.

“You do your own laundry?” Tony asked, picking up a little t-shirt and scowling at the Captain America design on the front of it.

“Yes. I do all of my own chores.”

“You make decent money, though, right?” Tony asked, tossing the shirt back onto the pile. “Why not hire a housekeeper?”

“Because I like doing it. It makes me feel like a responsible adult to take care of myself and my son.”

“Huh.” Stark reached for a pair of little underroos. These were Thor themed. “So if I fold these, I’ll feel more grown up?”

Peter smiled.

“Probably not. But if you go out and mow my lawn, you might.”

Tony smirked.

“Nice try.”

“I’ll pay you ten dollars.”

“Seriously? That’s the going rate?”

“That’s what the kid across the street would charge me. But I think she likes the fact that my mower propels itself and she just has to hang on and steer.”

“It wouldn’t take much to make it radio controlled,” Tony suggested, giving in and folding the little pair of briefs that he was holding. Peter was much better at it than he was – but he’d had more practice, Tony was sure. “Then you could sit on the front porch and cut the grass at the same time.”

“I might take you up on that, someday.”

“What else are you doing, today?” Tony asked, reaching for another pair of pint-sized underwear. Laundry wasn't something that he did. Everything was sent out to be washed – or dry-cleaned – and all he had to do was make sure it made it into the hamper. Even if he missed, the cleaning people would take care of getting it where it needed to be. Folding little underwear was kind of fun. In moderation. “You’re not doing laundry _all day_ , are you?”

“I have a few loads,” Peter said. “If I keep on top of it, it’s not usually an all day project. If I get behind, I could be doing it from morning until night – just to catch up. I need to go grocery shopping, and straighten the house up. What about you?”

“I’m free. I never make plans for the weekends. Unless it’s avenger related.” He reached for another piece of clothing, this one a shirt that had a train on it. “Can I spend the day with you?”

“You want to?”

“I want to get to know you, better, Peter,” Tony admitted. “And not just in the bedroom. This would be a good way to do it. Unless it’s creepy?”

“No. It isn’t creepy,” the younger man said, looking pleased by the request – which made Tony feel pleased, too. “It’s sweet.”

“I’m not folding your underwear, though,” Stark added. “I’ll fold _Parker’s_ , because he’s a little guy and I don’t have to worry about him leaking it to the press that I’m doing it. You, on the other hand, could probably make a fortune selling a picture of me with your underwear in my hand.”

Peter chuckled.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

><><><><>

“This is _ridiculous_ …”

Peter snorted, holding his side as he tried not to laugh.

“I told you it wasn’t easy. What did you say? Oh, I remember,” he went on without giving the older man a chance to respond. “ _I have an IQ higher than Einstein’s, Peter, I think I can fold a fitted sheet without any help_.’. Was that what you said?”

Tony rolled his eyes and threw the offending piece of freshly washed linen at the young writer.

“You fold it, then, smart ass. Show me how it’s done.”

He grinned, not at all offended, and simply crumbled the folded sheet into a ball and dropped it in the laundry basket.

“There.”

Stark scowled.

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“You call that folded?”

“No. But I never claimed to be able to fold it.”

The billionaire shook his head, amused, and reached for another sheet, this one a top sheet that wasn’t so complicated. He’d had a good day, really, considering he’d spent it watching – and occasionally _helping_ – Peter do every domestic chore that was needed when it came to maintaining a household that included a small child. They’d cleaned the kitchen, the living room and the back porch – as well as Parker’s room. None of it was _dirty_ , really, because Peter kept it clean, but there was still a lot of upkeep. Kids were messy little creatures, Tony was realizing. They hadn’t mowed the lawn, much to Tony’s relief, but there had been several loads of laundry, culminating in the final one that was made up of sheets and a couple of towels.

“Whatever.” He wondered if Steve Rogers knew how to fold a fitted sheet. Probably. “Are you about done for the day?”

He was tired – and he really hadn’t done that much to help. He couldn’t imagine how Peter did all that he did – and managed an actual career on top of having Parker around most of the time.

“I’m done being _domestic_ ,” the young man said, putting the final folded sheet into the basket. _He_ looked tired, too. “Thank you for helping me.”

“You’re welcome.” Tony looked at his watch. “Do you want to go out to eat? Or order something in?”

“We’re not cooking?”

“No. I’ve decided that you’re an amazing person, and you should be spoiled. And I’m too tired to cook for you. What do you want?”

“Pizza.”

“Sounds good. You put the laundry away, and I’ll order it.”

“Alright.”

><><><><

By the time Peter finished, Tony was relaxing on the sofa, his shoes off and his feet on the coffee table. He was looking at his tablet, but he put it aside when Peter walked into the living room and joined him.

“What are you doing, tomorrow?” Tony asked, patting the space beside him in an invitation that Peter accepted. “Tell me it’s something fun.”

“Parker should be home some time in the afternoon. I thought I’d do some writing before he comes home, and then take him to the park, if he isn’t too tired. Sometimes he wears himself out – or May and Ben wear him out for me – and all he wants to do is take a nap.”

“Are you going to write the big reveal?”

“I intend to, yes. It should be fun.”

“But you plan on writing Tony being upset that Kyle didn’t trust him enough to tell him.”

“Correct.”

They’d discussed that particular point. Even though Tony told him that he would have known something was off and different about his lover, Peter didn’t think that he’d figure it out, pointing out to Tony that his fictional self might suspect something was different, but really wouldn’t have any reason to consider that the young man had super powers. Tony Stark would be startled when his love interest suddenly picked a fallen tree up off him, and the surprise would turn into anger at being lied to – which would then turn into an argument about trust.

And they would both walk away.

“There always has to be angst?”

“Life tends to have some heartache,” Peter said, taking his hand, and then settling both of them on his thigh. “Misunderstandings, and disagreements. Tell me that you wouldn’t be at least a little angry that someone you thought you knew everything about wasn’t completely honest with you?”

“I suppose I’d be a little annoyed,” he conceded. “But I still think I’d notice something was off, before it was revealed.”

Peter didn’t think so, but he definitely wasn't going to argue the fact.

“If they argue, then I get to write some incredible make up sex once they work things out in the end.”

“You make a good point.”

They discussed how Peter might write the reveal, since he still hadn’t completely decided what the circumstances would be that would make Kyle reveal his abilities in front of the fictional Tony. When the pizza arrived, they both were hungry and ate heartily, but continued discussing the story that Peter was writing.

Mainly because Tony was infatuated by it – and the two characters that Peter had brought together in the making of it.

“It’d have to be some pretty good make up sex,” he said when they cleaning up the remains of their meal. “To make up for lying.”

“Kyle isn’t _lying_ to Tony,” Peter pointed out. “He never asked him if he had superhero powers.”

“He’s withholding information.”

Peter shrugged.

“Even lovers keep secrets, sometimes, don’t they?”

“You wouldn’t be annoyed if your lover hid that kind of thing from you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe not… if he had a good reason. I’m not the one to ask…”

“Because you don’t have any secrets?” Tony asked.

“Because I’ve never really had a lover.”

They both knew that he didn’t count Parker’s mother.

Stark nodded, and his expression changed, subtly, as he reached for Peter’s hand.

“Why don’t we change that?”


	19. 19

Peter felt himself shiver, but it wasn’t nerves. His heart was suddenly racing in anticipation, and he nodded, his palms sweaty and his mouth dry.

“Yes. We could do that…”

Tony smiled, but he held back.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded.

“But you need to be in charge. I don’t want to do something wrong and mess it up.”

Which made the billionaire chuckle, softly, and he leaned over, looming over Peter as he brushed a tender kiss against the corner of his mouth.

“You’re not going to mess it up, I promise,” he assured him. “But I’ll definitely be in charge.”

“Okay.”

“Kiss me, Peter,” he whispered, his lips close to – but not touching – the younger man’s. “We’ll start slowly and build up to the climax – if you’ll pardon the pun.”

Peter smiled, and kissed Tony, his lips parting even as he closed that small distance. Tony’s tongue claimed his mouth, immediately, and the older man’s hand slid along his side, idly caressing the taut muscles through the shirt Peter was wearing. Tony shifted just enough that he was able to pull Peter into his lap, teasing his mouth with his tongue as he did. There wasn’t any hurry, really, and he wanted to take his time and make sure the younger man enjoyed it.

He fully intended to, after all.

His hand found its way into Peter’s lap, but even though he _did_ caress him, he didn’t move to remove any of the layers of clothing that were in his way, yet. Instead, he continued to kiss him and slide his other hand along Peter’s back and shoulder, every now and then slipping it under his shirt to brush against the firm muscles of the young man’s abdomen and chest.

“You’re so sexy, honey,” he finally murmured as he pulled away, breaking the kiss. “And so hard, aren’t you?”

Peter nodded, his expression dazed, but mostly able to function, still. Tony Stark was an amazing kisser, but he already knew that.

“Yes.”

“Ready to give yourself to me…” Tony said, smoothly. “To let me have my way with you.”

“Yes.”

This agreement was a little more breathless.

“It’s going to be incredible,” the older man assured him. “Your hard body under me. Legs open for my body. Me forcing my cock into you an inch at a time until I’m yours and you’re mine.”

“Jesus, Tony,” Peter moaned. “You’re killing me…”

“You’ll be fine,” Tony crooned, and now he was undoing the button of Peter’s jeans, and then working to slide them down, along with his boxers. “I’ve got you.”

“Yeah.”

Peter lifted up to allow his pants to come off, and he pulled Tony’s shirt up and off while he had the chance. He lowered his head and brushed a kiss against the other man’s chest, eliciting a pleased murmur of approval that made him do it, again.

“That’s right, honey,” he said. “Kiss me. Lick me. Taste me, Peter.”

He did as he was told, but his own actions were distracted by Tony. The billionaire’s hand was tracing patterns along the shaft of Peter’s throbbing cock, lightly teasing him one moment and then stroking him, possessively, the next. Peter moaned his own approval at the treatment. The sound made Tony harden that much more in his eagerness, and he brought Peter’s head up to kiss him, again.

“Get your shirt off,” he ordered, adjusting Peter’s position so that he was straddling Tony’s hips, but set back onto his knees.

It was a beautiful sight, Tony decided, looking down between them.

As Peter did as he was told, Stark reached into the pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a foil wrapped condom and a small pack of lube, tucking both under his armpit for the moment as he opened his pants and released his aching cock. Peter reached for it, but Tony caught his hand.

“No, honey. Best leave it alone for now.” He smiled, and ran his hands along Peter’s sides, moving down until he was cupping the boy’s ass cheeks, one milky white globe in each large palm. Spreading them as he kneaded the tight muscles – even there – he leaned forward and kissed Peter’s chest. “I want you right here, Peter,” he murmured against the boy’s skin. “You’ll let me fuck you on your couch, won’t you?”

“Yes.”

He was shifting a little, the head of his own eager cock brushing against Tony’s stomach, trying to catch some friction to pleasure himself, and Tony permitted it. He set the condom down beside him and opened the lube, drenching his finger before sliding it back along Peter’s ass. He searched with knowing fingers for that tight hole and watched Peter’s reaction as the first finger breached the tight ring of muscles that fought so hard to keep him out, and then tightened around him to keep him in.

“You’re so tight, Peter. Going to be so good.”

“Jesus…”

Peter ground down on the finger, his cock leaving a trail of slick precum along Tony’s belly.

“Like that?”

“Yes.”

Tony stretched those inner walls a little, and then added another finger, leaning forward and taking Peter’s nipple into his mouth. It was too much. The anticipation, the build up, and the sensation of having Tony right there with him was more than he could handle. The younger man gasped and climaxed untouched, ropes of cum painting Tony’s chest and belly as he did.

“Good…” Stark moved close enough to Peter that his erupting cock was pinned between them, Peter rutting the coarse hairs of Tony’s belly as he spasmed several more times, his release drenching them both. “Keep going, honey. I know you’ve got more in you.”

Even as he was encouraging him, Tony was adding another finger – and now he brushed Peter’s prostate, which made the younger man tense and cry out in surprised pleasure.

_“Fuck.”_

Tony smiled.

“Yeah. I know.” He touched him there, again, and then again, sliding his fingers in and out of Peter to teach him the rhythm that they were going to be sharing, and to prepare him for what was to come. “It’s going to be so good for you,” he murmured. “You’re going to be so full of me.”

“God… yes…”

Peter was rocking himself on Tony’s hand, now, driving down, hard. Tony let him repeat the motion several times before he just couldn’t wait any longer. He moved his hand, kissing Peter as he did, and then pushing him back onto his thighs to give himself room to see what he was going. His hands were eager as he opened the wrapper, and rolled the condom onto his thick cock, and then dribbled the rest of the lube from the packet over it.

“Come here, baby,” he crooned, his hands returning to Peter ass to pull him closer, again, and to part those lovely ass cheeks. “Put your hands on my shoulders to brace yourself.”

Peter whimpered when Tony guided the head of his cock to the still tight opening, and he buried his face against Tony’s ear when the older man’s grip eased just a little to allow gravity to help him impale Peter on his hard cock. Inch by inch the younger man was filled with Tony, just like he’d promised, until he was completely flush against Tony’s pelvis bones, his balls pressed against Tony.

“We’re there,” Tony told him, unnecessarily. He turned his head and kissed Peter lovingly. “You’re so amazing. So tight. You feel so good.”

“It feels good.”

“It’s supposed to.” Tony’s hands went to Peter’s hips and he lifted him, a little, before allowing him to drop back down on him, an inch or so of hard flesh forcing its way back into him and making him groan in pleasure at the sensation. “You’re a perfect fit for me. Just like I knew you would be.”

“I knew it, too,” Peter said, kissing Tony’s neck and holding still as he acclimated to the feeling of being so very full. The older man held still, his hands on Peter’s hips, as if he understood what he was doing, and only when Peter experimentally began to rock his hips against him did Tony move, again. He lifted him, slowly, and brought him back down on him with a satisfied groan of pleasure that was echoed from somewhere near his ear. “You’re so exciting…”

“Jesus.” Tony thrust up into Peter as well as he could with the young man on him like he was, but it wasn't enough – despite the moan that it produced. “Hold on, honey,” he murmured, lifting him enough that he actually pulled out – which made Peter give a disappointed moan. “It’s okay,” Stark said, shifting the slight body and then rolling him so he was on his back, looking up at Tony when he moved over him. “It’ll be better this way. I promise.”

He parted those long legs and moved between them, his cock eager and pointing the way. Peter arched against him when Tony guided the head back to where it belonged, and then thrust himself into the boy with a motion that left them both breathless.

“Yes…”

“That’s it,” Tony agreed, pulling back and slamming himself into Peter, hard. “Take me, Peter. That’s so right.”

He began thrusting, using the same rhythm that he’d used when fingering his young lover, and Peter rose to meet the motions as well as he could with his legs wrapped around Tony’s hips, holding him close to avoid losing contact. Tony kissed him, heatedly, his hips slamming himself into him, repeatedly, aiming for the prostate, and brushing against it every other stroke.

“That’s so perfect,” Tony crooned, his eyes watching Peter’s in between kisses, his hands bracing himself above the young man and his cock driving ever deeper. “You're so obedient for me.”

“Tony… Jesus… yes…”

“Good… take it, Peter.”

The sight of the young man under him was exciting, of course. The fact that it was _Peter_? Only that much better. Tony was fucking him hard and fast by then, and not holding back or even trying to be gentle. His breath coming in short gasps as he drew closer and closer to his release. He wanted Peter to go, again, though, first, and changed the angle of his thrusts, subtly, making sure to hit that sensitive spot deep inside the boy, repeatedly, now, and Peter groaned, tensing under him within only a few thrusts. His fingers dug almost painfully into Tony’s shoulders and he climaxed, arching up so hard that he almost dislodged Tony, who grunted and gave in to his own needs, forcing himself as deep as he could get and climaxing.

He collapsed on top of Peter, still wonderfully inside him, and sighed. He kissed Peter’s ear, and smiled when he heard a note of satisfaction in the sound Peter made in reply.

“Well?”

“I liked it.”

_Tony_ liked it, too.

He smiled, though, and hitched his hips a few more times, making Peter tense under him, and then he pulled out, unable to stay where he was as he softened. He took care of the condom and then rested his hand on Peter’s stomach.

“You sound surprised.”

“I am,” Peter admitted, moving his legs to allow the bigger man to shift out from between them. He was pleased, though, that Tony brought him up tightly against his side, clearly in the mood to hold him – and Peter _wanted_ to be held. “I set the bar pretty high, for my first time.”

“Because you write about it so much?”

“That and because it was with _you_. If you’d been lousy, it would have been a huge disappointment.”

“But I was amazing, right?”

“It felt good,” Peter temporized. “It might _always_ feel good, though. What do I know? Maybe you’re not as good as other guys are, and I just don’t know the difference.”

Tony rolled onto his side so he could look down at him, feeling a surge of annoyance – until he saw that the younger man was smiling up at him, his eyes amused. Then he realized that he was teasing him. He kissed the tip of Peter’s pug nose.

“You really are a bit of a shit, Peter. You know that, right?”

“Yeah.” He put his arms around Tony, resting his cheek against his bare chest, absently noting that they both definitely needed a shower. Sex was messier than he’d thought. “Thank you, Tony. It was nice.”

“You’re welcome.” He shivered, pulling Peter closer, but knowing the slight young man wasn’t going to be able to generate enough heat in the scrawny body to keep him from feeling chilled now that they were coming down off the high of their mutual satisfaction. For that matter, he was even more susceptible to a chill because he was smaller. “You should consider having a blanket over the back of your sofa,” he told him. “Then we could fall asleep right here, in each others’ arms.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

“Next time we’ll be in your bed,” Stark told him, sliding a hand down Peter’s hip, possessively. “Where I can lay you out, properly.”

Peter made a sound of agreement.

“On my belly?”

“Do you want to try it like that?”

“I do. Yes.” He shivered, even though it wasn’t cold in the house. “It sounds exciting.”

“Because it allows me to be in a dominant position over you,” Tony told him. “So it appeals to your desire to be dominated. And I’m perfectly willing, believe me.”

“Good.”

“Come on, honey,” Stark said. “Let’s go get cleaned up.”

“Yeah.”


	20. 20

Tony was still at Peter’s when May and Ben brought Parker home two days later.

He wasn’t in any hurry to leave, really. The company was good, the sex was ongoing and extremely satisfying, and besides that, he found that he was looking forward to seeing Peter’s young son, again. Not that he’d ever _admit_ it, of course. He simply pointed out that he hadn’t met the people who had raised Peter, and was interested in finding out what _they_ were like. While waiting for them to arrive, after lunch, Peter spent some time sketching a few more of the illustrations that would be considered for the new book, while Tony sat companionably beside him on the sofa, flipping through research on his tablet.

They’d gone to bed plenty early the evening before, but truth be told, there hadn’t been a lot of sleep. They were both warm and comfortable after the shower, and Peter had drifted off almost immediately, but only a short time later Tony had decided that he was up to another round of hot sex. With more room in the bed, and his partner now a little more experienced and comfortable, the billionaire had woken Peter with a blowjob which had only been the beginning of a long night of unhurried exploration as the two of them learned what the other enjoyed and how to best to provide that. It rivaled anything that Peter had ever written, and Tony had to admit that it had been better than anything he’d had in a long time – and knew that it was because of the company that he was keeping.

In the morning, they’d showered, again, and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast (cooked by Tony) and had then washed the now soiled bedding, which had led to yet another fitted sheet ending up crumpled in a drawer, while Peter made the bed with others. Barely done with that less than arduous chore, Peter had received a call from May, just verifying that he was home, and letting him know that they were headed that way, and would be there in an hour, or so.

“You aren’t going to hide me under the bed, or in the closet, they get here, are you?” Tony had asked when Peter ended the call.

“I hadn’t _planned_ on it,” Peter had replied. “They’d probably be happy to meet you. Maybe even excited. You’re pretty famous, after all, and I know May thinks you’re sexy.”

“Oh? Is she attractive?”

“She’s _married_ ,” Peter reminded him. “And Ben wouldn’t appreciate you flirting with her.”

“Got it.”

_Peter_ wouldn’t have been all that pleased, either, of course, but he didn’t say anything. Despite the extremely intimate weekend activities, he was well aware that Tony _wasn’t_ his. They were having a fling, and nothing more. Certainly nothing far reaching. But it _was_ nice, and the adult company was enjoyable.

“What are you going to do with Parker, today?” Tony asked, changing the subject.

“When he gets here I’ll see if May and Ben fed him. If they haven’t, then he’ll need lunch. After that, it’s just hanging out and spending time together. Maybe we’ll color. He enjoys that.”

“You’re not going to the park?”

“Maybe. It really depends on him. I don’t want to make up a plan in my mind, only to have him come home grumpy and wanting nothing more than to sprawl on the couch and watch cartoons.”

“Can I hang out with you guys?”

Peter smiled.

“If you want. You _do_ understand there won’t be anything intimate going on between us with him in the house, right?”

“Yeah, I understood. That _would_ be creepy – and not in a good way. I can see you, again, though, right? I mean, after today?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” His expression softened. “I still have to see how the story ends, right?”

That made Peter smile, and he stepped into Tony’s arms.

“Maybe I’ll write an update, tonight, after I put Parker to bed. The big reveal was supposed to have happened a couple of days, ago, but I’ve been pretty distracted.”

“So have I.”

They stayed like that for a few moments, but eventually Tony kissed his temple and stepped back. If he was going to while away an entire Sunday, he murmured, he might as well have something to show for it. There was some research that he could be doing for the next suit that he was thinking up.

“ _Another_ one?” Peter asked, moving to the sofa to sit with him, but stopping long enough to grab his sketch pad and a couple of pencils. “How many do you need?”

“How many fanfiction stories do _you_ need?” Stark countered, sitting down, and patting the spot beside him.

“As many as I can think of,” the younger man conceded, understanding the question. “Is this one going to be nanotech?”

“What do you know about nanotech?” Tony asked, curiously.

“Very little,” Peter admitted. “I did some research to be able to keep from sounding like an idiot when I wrote the first story that included that kind of suit, but not much more.”

“It’s pretty complicated,” the billionaire said. “You make it sound like you understand it – Kyle has several believable conversations with your fictional Tony Stark.”

“Because I’m good at making things up.”

“I could explain it to you.”

Peter smiled.

“I’d like that,” he admitted. It would certainly make telling his stories easier if he actually had any kind of real grasp on the technologies involved. “Not _today_ , though. I have a feeling that’s going to be a conversation for us to have sometime when you have several hours to devote to it.”

“You’re not an idiot.”

“Thank you.” He leaned against Tony, turning slightly, so his back was against Stark’s upper arm. “But I want to be able to concentrate, and I can’t, right now.”

“I can understand that.”

They fallen into a comfortable silence, then, as Peter started working on sketching the moon, while Tony brought up a 3-D image of a couple of elements, and the changes that would be required in order to get them to do what he wanted them to do.

They were both so involved in their particular projects that they both started when a knock on the front door heralded the return of Parker, with May and Ben.

“Hello?!”

Peter smiled at Tony, set his sketch pad aside and jumped nimbly over the back of the couch.

“Hey!” Tony heard him say as he set his tablet on the coffee table and rose to his feet, as well, although he wasn’t quite as acrobatic about it as Peter. “There’s my little guy!”

He turned toward the door just in time to see Peter sweep Parker up off his feet and into his arms, the little boy giggling and the noise almost sounding out of place, since he was so quiet, usually. With the little boy was an attractive brunette and a brown-haired man who looked so much like Peter that there was no doubt they were related.

Both of the newcomers looked at Stark, and he smiled as he walked over, stopping beside Peter, and turning his attention to the little boy in the young man’s arms.

“You remember my friend Tony, right?” Peter asked his son.

The little boy nodded, smiling at Tony, his brown eyes cheerful.

“Hey, Parker,” Tony said, offering a hand – which was the recipient of a high-five, immediately.

That made Tony’s smile broaden.

“May. Ben. This is Tony Stark.”

“No shit it is,” Ben said, looking excited, and clearly trying to hide it. He offered Tony his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Tony said, amicably. “You’re Peter’s uncle, right?”

“Correct.”

“He’s going to be his _booted out of the front door on his ass_ uncle if he doesn’t watch his language around Parker,” May told both men. She smiled, though, and also offered Tony a hand. “I was hoping to have a chance to meet you,” she admitted. “How do you know Peter?”

“I’m a fan of his writing,” Tony said, easily.

It wasn’t even a lie.

“Which is what I told her,” Peter said, speaking up. “But she didn’t believe me when I said we’d met at my book signing.”

“We _did_ ,” Tony confirmed. “Truthfully, I was sort of stalking him, trying to get the nerve up to introduce myself.”

“That’s incredible,” May replied.

“Tony wanted to meet you guys,” Peter told them. “I’m pretty sure he mentioned taking pictures with you – to prove that he met you.”


	21. 21

“I would _love_ to take some pictures,” he agreed.

Not something he normally took time to do unless pressed by the circumstances – or Pepper – but he could do it for Peter.

“Did Parker eat, May?” Peter asked, running his fingers through his son’s curls.

“Yes. Breakfast at the farm, and then _McDonald’s_ on the way here.”

“Did you have a good time?” Peter asked.

Parker nodded his head, enthusiastically.

“He rode Laptop.”

“Who is Laptop?” Tony asked, curiously.

“A horse on the farm,” Peter told him. “The wildest, bucking bronc you ever saw. Right, buddy?”

Parker nodded, again, looking so happy that Tony found himself smiling, too.

“Wow,” Stark allowed his eyes to widen in surprise. “That’s amazing.”

“He did well,” Ben assured them.

“Go put your things in your room,” Peter said. “But don’t be gone, too long. I missed you.”

He set Parker on his feet and the boy hurried off, carrying his backpack and the little bag.

“He isn’t going to last long,” May warned her nephew with a smile at the retreating figure. “He was up later than he should have been, last night, and everyone was up early, this morning, to go fishing.”

“Did he catch anything?”

“Baby fish,” Ben replied. “They’re back in the pond waiting to be caught, again, some other day.”

“Anything else I need to know?”

“He’s perfect,” May said. “Just like his father.”

Peter smiled at that, and Tony was amused to see that he was blushing, slightly, at the compliment.

“Thank you.”

“Thank you for letting us have him. It was a good time,” Ben told him.

“I’d never say no. You know that.”

May kissed his cheek.

“Someone sure did a good job _raising_ you.”

Ben snorted.

“That was _me_.”

“Do you two want to stay for a cup of coffee?”

“No. We’re going to say goodbye to Parker, impose on Mr. Stark, here, for a photo – or two – and then we’re going to go home and collapse for a while. Your little guy wore us out.”

“You can call me _Tony_ ,” the billionaire told them, smoothly. “And it’s no imposition. Besides, some day I might run into a crowd of _Peter’s_ fans, and want to impress them by doing some name dropping. This way he’ll owe me one.”

Peter smirked at that, but didn’t have a chance to reply before Parker came running back over, the door to his room slamming shut behind him. Peter swept him up into his arms, again, kissing his cheek, noisily.

“May and Ben are going to take some photos with Tony,” he said to his son. “Do you want to, also?”

Parker frowned, his expression uncertain, and then he shrugged and shook his head.

Another amused snort from Ben, and a chuckle from May.

“He doesn’t know who you are,” she said to Stark. “So he doesn’t understand why we’d want pictures with someone we just met. Right, Parker?”

The little boy nodded, smiling, and pressing his cheek against Peter’s.

“Can I show him?” Tony asked Peter. “Or would it frighten him?”

“You’re not afraid of Tony, right buddy?”

Parker smiled and shook his head, looking at Stark, expectantly. The billionaire winked at him, took a step back, and then activated to housing on his chest with a couple of taps. A moment later the nanotech was flowing over him, forming the distinctive red and gold armor that everyone knew – including _Parker_ , since a similar image was on his bedspread. The boy’s eyes widened and his grip tightened on Peter, and there was an audible gasp when thirty seconds after it began to form, Ironman was now standing in the living room entrance with them.

Tony deactivated the helmet, but left the rest, and he smiled, unable to keep from feeling – and looking – just a little smug at the response.

“Pretty cool, huh?”

There was an excited nod, and the little boy reached out a hand. Peter moved closer so that Parker could touch the metal covering Tony’s shoulder. He did just that, and looked up at Stark with wonder.

“Tony is _Ironman_ ,” Peter told his son.

“ _Now_ do you want a picture?” May asked, amused.

Those brown eyes that were so similar to Peter’s lit up with excitement, and he nodded, again, offering his arms to Tony, who hesitated, and then took the boy from Peter’s arms. One metal-clad forearm went under the boy’s rear to give him a seat, the other arm close at hand should he start to slide off. May pulled her phone – and so did Peter. A moment later there were several pictures of Tony Stark with Parker Parker in his arms, both of them smiling at the camera.

“Come here, buddy,” Peter said, taking Parker from Tony, who was relieved, but trying to hide how uncomfortable he had been with the child actually in his arms. Holding babies wasn’t his thing. He could leave that for Superman. “Let’s let May and Ben have a chance.”

Parker nodded, accepting the transfer, easily, but watched as several more pictures were taken. Then he was taken from Peter by May, who wanted him in the picture with them, too.

“Thanks,” May said to Tony, smiling, as she took her phone from Peter, who had taken the photos, and handed Parker back to him. “These are going to blow up my social media – unless you prefer that we don’t post them?”

The billionaire smiled.

“Go ahead. I’ll find them and make a comment, later, if you do – just for shits and giggles.”

“Tony…”

The billionaire rolled his eyes at Peter’s gentle reprimand for swearing in front of Parker.

“Sorry… for _poop and laughs_ …”

May chuckled, amused.

“Sounds good. It was nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” he told them both.

He even _meant_ it. 

Ben and May said their goodbyes to Peter and Parker (the kisses bestowed on the younger Parker were much messier than those Peter received from his aunt) and then they left. Peter looked at his son.

“Are you hungry?”

He knew that he’d just eaten, but he wanted to make sure. Parker shook his head. He looked at Tony and pointed to the center of the man’s chest, then tapped his own a few times, and Tony smiled.

“You want me to activate my suit, again?”

The boy nodded, eyes hopeful in a way that Stark couldn’t refuse. The billionaire looked at Peter, who shrugged.

“It’s up to you,” he said. He looked at his son. “We were thinking we might go to the park,” he said to the little boy. “But Tony can’t wear his suit, there, because then people will swarm all over him and he can’t have fun. So you have to decide which you want, more. Go to the park? Or play with Ironman?”

Parker tapped Tony’s chest, again. No big shock, there. Tony smirked.

“He has good taste.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Letting your three year old have total access to Ironman?” Stark asked, raising an eyebrow. “No. But you’re going to owe me. _Big time.”_

Peter smiled.

“I’ll think of some way to thank you.”

Tony might have said more, but he wisely didn’t, unable to think of anything that wasn’t laced with sexual innuendoes. Instead, he activated his suit and Parker gasped, again, and reached his arms out, clearly ready to trade his father’s embrace for the avenger’s.

“Come here, kiddo,” Tony said, taking the boy and holding him up and out, like he was flying – superman style. “I’ll tell you all about how I single-handedly saved the Earth from aliens.”

“ _Single-handedly_?” Peter echoed, walking with them as Tony carried Parker into the living room. “I’m sure I heard the story differently.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”


	22. 22

“When did you start doing photo ops?”

Tony frowned, looking over his desk at Natasha Romanoff.

“What?”

“I found a post on Facebook,” she said. “A few of them, really – and all but one show you holding a little kid. I don’t see Pepper hovering over your shoulder with a whip and chair, so I have to assume you weren’t being coerced.”

As she was speaking, she held up her cell, showing him the display. It was a picture of May and Ben, with Tony holding Parker. Taken, of course, in Peter’s living room only the day before.

“That was fast.”

Not the _post_ ; he’d known May would put it up the minute she got home. He was surprised that Romanoff had found it so quickly. SHIELD was good, after all, and Natasha was constantly monitoring social media for anything that might look like a threat to Stark or the others.

“Who are they?”

He smiled, and leaned back in his expensive office chair.

“You tell me.”

“I know who they are,” the assassin conceded. “May and Ben Parker. And their nephew’s son, Parker. Who names their kid Parker Parker?”

“You didn’t look him up?”

“Not, yet. He’s three.”

Meaning he clearly wasn’t a threat, now was he?

“His dad is Peter Parker. He writes children’s books.”

“I know. I looked _him_ up. How do you know him?”

“I’m a fan.”

“Why are you hanging out with his aunt and uncle?”

“They came over while I was at his house. They brought Parker home and I happened to be there.”

“ _Happened_ to be, huh?”

“Yes.”

He carefully kept his expression even, but she frowned.

“He’s a little young, isn’t he?”

“He’s three.”

“I meant the _dad_.”

Tony smiled; he’d known what she meant.

“Yes. He’s young. But not too young – not for me.”

She gave him a look, recognizing the gleam in his eyes – even though Tony hadn’t, exactly, intended to look so smug.

“You’re sleeping with him?”

“I am.”

No sense in denying it. She’d find out, one way or the other.

“Since when?”

“That isn’t any of your business, Agent Romanoff – and it isn’t _SHIELD_ business, either.”

“If he’s in contact with you, then that makes it SHIELD business,” she pointed out. “He could be a plant for someone intending to harm you – or infiltrate SHIELD. Or the Avengers, for that matter.”

Tony rolled his eyes. Yes, she was extremely good at her job because she was extremely suspicious of anyone and everyone, but there were times when that could go to ludicrous extremes.

“Because all plants bring their young children with them on their missions…”

She didn’t smile.

“Some people will do anything to achieve their objectives.”

“Peter’s not an undercover operative,” Tony assured her. “He didn’t come looking for me. I went looking for him. Change the subject, will you?” he was getting a little annoyed – and he didn’t like the idea of Romanoff or any of the others doing something that Peter might get wind of and ruining a relationship that Tony was thoroughly enjoying. The sex was exciting, of course, but he wasn’t used to being involved with someone like Peter, and like the Tony in the story Peter was writing, the real Stark was finding it to be wonderfully wholesome. He didn’t want someone to ruin it. Chances were, he’d do that himself, eventually. “Anything I need to know about?”

She shrugged.

“Nothing beyond the usual. Anything I need to know?”

“No.”

“Can I buy you lunch?”

The billionaire recognized it as a sort of peace offering and smiled.

“Yes. Thank you.”

><><><><<><

“Hey, sexy… come here, often?”

Peter rolled his eyes, amused and not bothering to hide it. He and Parker both looked up at the new voice. Both saw that Tony Stark had walked over to stand by the swing that Peter was securing his son into.

“He’s talking to _you_ ,” Peter told his son, grinning at the boy, who shook his head and pointed back at his father, and then smiled up at Tony. Peter smiled up at Tony, too. “We’re swinging. Enjoying the calm before the storm.”

That wasn’t a euphemism for anything; the weather was beautiful that afternoon, but there was a lot of rain coming their way, and it was supposed to begin early that evening. There were a lot of people in the park enjoying the nice weather before the clouds on the horizon came rolling in and drenched them.

“Do you like storms, Parker?” Tony asked the boy, directly.

Parker nodded, and then tapped his chest, looking at Tony, hopefully.

There was no doubt what he wanted, and it made Peter smile.

“I can’t go Ironman out in the open like this,” Tony told him, leaning over so Parker could hear him but no one else – except Peter, of course. “If I _do_ , then I can’t play with you guys. People will keep asking me for pictures and autographs, instead. I can do it for you, _tonight_ ,” he added, before those hopeful eyes could become disappointed. “If your dad lets me come over for dinner…”

Parker turned his hopeful eyes on Peter, then, and the young man rolled his eyes.

“That’s messed up.”

Tony smirked, not at all repentant.

“What? I’m just trying to avoid making a scene. Nothing wrong with that, right? And this way, I get free dinner out of it.”

“We’re having Tuna casserole.”

Tony looked at Parker.

“Do you even _like_ tuna casserole?”

The boy nodded, cheerfully, and now it was Peter who smirked.

“He’s the one who wanted it, in the first place.”

Tony didn’t ask how a little guy who didn’t speak had managed to request something specific for dinner. Parker was a very expressive child, Tony knew, and was more than capable of making the people around him understand him – especially if they knew him, or were paying attention. Or both.

“For your information, I love tuna casserole,” the billionaire told Peter – and Parker. “If you like a good storm, though, you two should come to my place, tonight. I have a much better view, if there’s thunder and lightning.”

Again those hopeful eyes turned to Peter.

“We can’t make tuna casserole at Tony’s,” Peter reminded his son.

“Of course we can,” Stark said. He tapped Parker’s cute little nose. “Your dad can tell me what I need to get, and I’ll stop at the store on my way home. Then, when you guys get to my place, he can make us dinner, and you and I can play Ironman while we watch the storm roll in. What do you think?”

Parker nodded, excitedly, and he and Tony both looked at Peter, now. The younger man shook his head, smiling, and then shrugged.

“That’s fine.”

“Great. I’ll expect you by six.”

Peter nodded, and pushed the swing his son was on, making the little boy giggle.

“We’ll be there.”

Tony reached into his pocket and pulled his phone.

“What do I need to get?”

“It isn’t too complicated.”

Peter started listing ingredients, but suddenly seemed a little distracted. As he pushed Parker, he looked around, over his shoulder one direction, and then the other. Left to right.

“What’s up?”

“I don’t know… just…” he shrugged, and then turned his attention back to Tony, and the list – and his son. “Nothing, I guess. Just had a weird feeling.”

Tony frowned, putting his glasses on, and looking around, too. He caught a fleeting glance of someone very familiar vanishing around a corner outside of the park, and swore silently. Romanoff was quick, of course, but FRIDAY was connected to everything, and every camera in the city. The AI hadn’t missed her retreat. He took his glasses off, and pretended a nonchalance that he didn’t quite feel.

“I don’t see anything…”

“Yeah, neither do I.”

“Can I push the swing?”

Peter stepped sideways.

“Not too hard,” he cautioned.

“Right.” He smiled to find himself doing what he was doing, and even turned to face Peter when he pulled his camera. “Six is good for you?” he asked, now that Peter wasn’t being bombarded by his son’s brown eyes.

“It’s fine, Tony. I’m looking forward to it.”

“So am I.”

Even though Parker was going to be there, so it meant that nothing physical was going to be happening between him and the younger man. The Secret Keeper story was getting more and more interesting, however, and the two lovebirds that Tony enjoyed reading about so much were right at that stage of happiness or contentment in their relationship that made Tony know that something was going to happen – even if Peter hadn’t already told him that it was.

He was hoping to get an idea of how the big reveal of Kyle’s abilities was going to happen even though he knew that Peter didn’t have it quite worked out in his mind, yet. The buildup was exciting, and satisfying. The knowledge that the angst was coming wasn’t as much fun, but that was necessary, and he understood that. He was looking forward to it, especially since what would follow was a reconciliation and then some extremely hot make up sex.

He forced his thoughts from that, because sure as shit he’d get hard right then and there at the park surrounded by little kids and nannies. Instead, he concentrated on making sure that Parker’s swing didn’t go too high – just high enough to elicit giggles of pure happiness – and asked Peter about the newest Jack and Snaps story that he was still researching.

The young writer was willing to wing the fanfiction stories, but he was more careful with his research for the children’s books.

They had only been discussing it for fifteen or twenty minutes when the first thin, wispy clouds started blocking the late sunlight, and Peter regretfully called a stop to the playground.

“We aren’t wearing jackets,” he explained to Tony. “So I’m going to get him home before it rains and we get soaked.”

“That makes sense,” Stark nodded, watching as Peter pulled the little boy from the safety swing. Parker looked a little unhappy about being told they were leaving, but Tony smiled when Peter picked him up. “Besides, I need to go grocery shopping.”

“Got your list?”

“Yup.” He looked at Parker. “Ice cream sundaes for dessert?”

The boy lost his frown and nodded, smiling.

“He’s a messy eater…” Peter warned. “And ice cream is sloppy when it starts melting.”

“He’ll have to eat fast, then.” Tony wasn’t concerned. “Besides, my housekeeper comes, tomorrow.”

The younger man rolled his eyes, amused.

“We’ll see you at six.”


	23. 23

It was raining by the time FRIDAY told Tony that Peter and Parker were at the elevator on their way up. Tony knew because he’d been glancing out the giant window of the penthouse, occasionally, as he boiled noodles and opened the other ingredients for the casserole – all the while following a set of instructions that were on the display closest to the kitchen island. He wiped his hands and walked over to the door just as a knock announced their arrival.

Th billionaire frowned when he opened the door.

“You're soaked.”

Peter nodded, smiling. He was soaked, yes, but his son wasn’t. Mainly because Parker had Peter’s waterproof jacket wrapped around him and over his head, protectively.

“Yeah. A bit.”

“Come in,” Tony told them, moving aside so they could. “FRIDAY, turn up the heat. Why didn’t you use an umbrella?”

“I _did_ ,” Peter assured him, even as Parker smiled up at Tony, dropping Peter’s wet jacket on the floor, and starting to unzip his own. “The wind broke it when we got out of the car.”

The parking in Tony’s exclusive building was ridiculously expensive if you weren’t a tenant, and Peter had considered himself lucky to find a parking spot only a block away from the building. Yes, it was raining, but he’d been smart enough to make sure there was an umbrella in the car. An umbrella that hadn’t survived the first gust of wind that had tried to tear it from Peter’s grasp when he was getting Parker out of his car seat.

His grip was plenty strong enough to _hold_ the umbrella, but the fabric had torn, and the little metal rods hadn’t been able to stand up to the battering. Parker had only looked excited, so Peter decided that they could make the block to the apartment building before too much rain could fall. Just to be safe, though, he’d pulled his jacket off and put it over Parker, flipping the hood up, and had then picked up the bag that he always had for the boy’s toys in one arm, and his son in the other and had trudged through the rain, which only fell harder, as if to prove him wrong.

“There are towels in the bathroom, on the shelf,” Tony said, pointing toward a closed door off to the side. “Get dried off.”

“Thanks.”

“You, too, kid,” Tony told Parker, taking his jacket – and Peter’s – and turning the boy toward the other side of the room.

Parker giggled at the treatment, and followed his dad, while Tony hung their jackets up on the hooks next to the sliding glass door that led to the outdoor patio. As hard as it was raining, they weren’t going to be going outside that evening, and when he’d gone through the apartment, earlier, he’d been following a checklist FRIDAY had printed out for making sure his place was child-proofed, and locking that patio door had been right up there on the list.

Then he went back to the kitchen before his pasta water boiled over, well aware that Peter could handle drying his son off without any help from him.

><><><><

He was draining the pasta five minutes later when Peter and Parker emerged from the bathroom. The little boy trotted over to the kitchen, excitedly, and Peter followed at a more sedate pace. He was still damp, Tony saw when he looked over at him. His shirt, a simple polo, was dark with rainwater everywhere but on his chest and belly where he’d been carrying Parker, and his hair was curlier than normal because it was damp, too. But his jeans – also soaked – clung very nicely to his lean frame, Tony decided.

“You guys okay?” he asked, looking down at Parker to make sure he didn’t trip over him.

The little boy nodded, smiling up at him, and holding up his hands, clearly wanting to be picked up. Tony rolled his eyes at Peter, wondering when it became a thing that the little guy always got picked up whenever he wanted – even as he was reaching down to pick him up. Rather than hold him, though, he seated him on the countertop of the island.

“We’re fine,” Peter assured him. He casually moved to stand by his son, freeing Tony from the need to hold onto him, rather than start mixing ingredients into the casserole dish. “That looks amazing.”

“It’s _tuna casserole_ , Peter,” Tony pointed out. “It’s not like I’m channeling my inner Gordon Ramsey and making something exotic.”

“Have you made it before?”

“No.”

Of course, not.

“Then I’m impressed. Aren’t you, Parker?” he asked.

The boy nodded.

“Thank you.” He looked at Peter. “How did you get so wet?”

“The _rain_.”

“No shit.” Tony rolled his eyes, amused. “I didn’t think someone peed on you.” He smiled when Parker giggled – either at the word ‘pee’ or because of the curse word – and pointed the wooden spoon he was using at the child. “No bad words for you. Understand?”

Parker nodded, still grinning, and Peter explained why he was so wet while Tony dumped everything into the dish, and then put it into the oven and closed the door.

“So I might need to borrow an umbrella when we leave, tonight, if it’s still raining,” Peter finished.

“Yeah. That isn’t a problem.” Tony wiped his hands and then picked up Parker before turning back to the young man. “My room is through that door. In my dresser you will find all kinds of dry shirts and sweats or lounge pants. Go find something dry to put on and we’ll throw your clothes in the dryer so you don’t catch a chill.”

“I’ll dry,” Peter assured him. “It’s alright.”

“Do you think your dad should change?” Tony asked Parker, carrying him into the living room, with Peter walking beside them, already rolling his eyes. “Preferably before he sits his wet butt on my leather sofa?”

Parker nodded.

“You know… you don’t _always_ have to agree with him,” Peter told his son.

The boy grinned, and looked at Tony. Then tapped his chest, expectantly.

“See? _Ironman_.” Stark looked smug, even as he set Parker on the back of the couch and tapped his chest to activate the suit. “Go find something dry to wear, honey,” he said. “I’ll keep Parker entertained until you get back, and then we can watch the storm while we wait for dinner to finish baking.”

“Fine.” There was no sense arguing, he knew. And besides, wet denim could ruin the fine leather of Tony’s sofa – and he didn’t want to sit on a wooden kitchen chair all night. “You’re sure you got him?”

“I’m Ironman,” he pointed out as the nanotech oozed over his head. “I can watch him for five minutes.”

Parker tumbled off the back of the couch and landed in a heap of cushions, giggling, and Peter raised an eyebrow at the superhero.

“Oh?”

“I meant for him to do that.”

Amused, Peter did as he was told, and Tony looked down at the little boy, who was somewhat upside down and looking up at him.

“You think you’re pretty funny, don’t you?”

The boy nodded, and giggled when Tony righted him.

“Yeah. You might be,” Stark conceded. “A little bit, anyway.”

He was smiling, though, when he called the building concierge and requested that whatever parking spot that was next to his own get a reserved sign on it to make sure it was free for Peter to use, next time he drove over.


	24. 24

When Peter returned to the living room, wearing a baggy pair of sweats and a long-sleeved t-shirt, he found Tony still in the Ironman suit – with the helmet retracted – holding Parker and standing in front of a large bookcase on the far side of the living room. Most of the books were either research books of some kind, or expensive first editions of classics, Peter saw. He smiled, though, when he realized that next to the original _Tales of Canterbury_ and a carefully packaged Superman comic was the entire set of his Jack and Snaps books.

“What are you two up to?” he asked, walking over.

Tony hadn’t heard him coming, and despite the fact that Peter was only wearing socks, he was surprised at how stealthy he was.

Practically a ninja.

“Parker is showing me which one is his favorite,” Tony replied.

“I could have told you that,” the young man replied as his son pointed to one of the books, and the billionaire pulled it from the shelf. “ _Jack and Snaps go to the zoo_.”

“Not the _bigfoot_ one?” Tony asked the child in his arms.

Parker grinned and shook his head.

“The zoo is his favorite _Peter and Parker_ destination, too. We’ve probably gone there a million times, and I think he knows all the animals by their first names.”

“What’s your favorite animal?” Tony asked.

Parker looked at the book in the man’s hand, and pointed to the cover.

“The monkeys?”

He nodded. And then pointed at Tony, a question in his eyes that the billionaire didn’t need Peter to translate for him.

“What’s _mine_?”

Another nod.

Stark made a show of examining the creatures covering the front of the book, all looking happy.

“The lions. King of the jungle, right?”

Parker nodded his agreement, and Peter shook his head, amused – and maybe a little surprised by how easily Tony conversed with the little boy. That wasn't something that he’d have expected – and definitely not something that he’d ever have written in one of his stories.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked his son, reaching out to see if his hair was drying.

“Let’s go to the couch,” Tony suggested. When Peter reached for Parker, the older man shook his head with a smile. “Nope. You need your hands free to hold those pants up.”

Tony liked the fact that Peter was wearing his clothes. Of course, they were too big for him and even with the elastic band in the waist, the sweats were threatening to slide down the smaller man’s hips. The shirt was hanging low, as well, but it wasn’t going to fall off, now was it? He gestured for Peter to precede him, and admired the other’s rear as he followed him over, and then handed Parker over once Peter was settled on the sofa. A moment later, he was deactivating his suit and reaching for the remote as he settled beside him, leaving a bit of space rather than pulling Peter into his arms like he would have if it had only been the two of them.

A moment later, that space was filled when Parker tumbled himself from Peter’s arms into the spot between the two men, twisting himself around until his head was in Peter’s lap and his feet were resting on Tony’s thigh.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Peter warned the boy, smiling down at him with a warmth in his eyes that made Tony’s stomach hurt. “You still have to eat dinner.”

Parker smiled, stretching himself across both men, and held his hand out to Tony, looking at him, hopefully, and then at the remote. The billionaire stopped himself just in time from telling Parker the TV was voice activated and he didn’t really need a remote. But, of course a little guy who didn’t speak would need the remote, now wouldn’t he? He rolled his eyes, good-naturedly, and handed it over.

“Nothing too explicit,” he warned.

Peter smirked.

“Do you even _have_ any cartoons on your system?”

“Of course, I do.” He hesitated, though, and then shrugged and turned his head, slightly, so Peter would know he wasn’t addressing him. “FRIDAY? Set the remote to only access cartoons, or G rated shows.”

“ _Gotcha_.”

Parker sat up, obviously looking around for the person speaking, and Tony smiled.

“That’s my AI,” he explained. Then rolled his eyes when Peter snorted. He realized that the explanation didn’t mean anything to the child. “She’s my computer system that run my house. And my suit. And pretty much everything else. She’s also going to let us know when dinner’s ready,” he added. “So find something interesting for us to watch until then.”

When dinner was over, they’d see if the storm was worth watching, instead. Tony certainly hoped so, he decided, as Parker skillfully manipulated the remote with the ease of someone who had done it many times before – even the complicated one that ran Tony’s system – and settled on a cartoon that featured a lot of talking dinosaurs.

He was willing to watch this for the half an hour or so that it would take for dinner to finish baking, but he wasn’t going to watch it the rest of the evening.

He could only handle so much, after all.

><><><><>

BY the time they had eaten dinner, the storm outside was much more intense than it had been when Peter and Parker had arrived at Tony’s. Thunder was booming overhead, muffled by the building around them, but so loud that it could still be heard through the patio glass, and lightning split through the darkness outside in jagged streaks.

“He definitely isn’t afraid of storms,” Tony mused, looking over at Parker who had his face and hands pressed against the glass door that led out to the patio, watching for the next bolt of lightning.

The billionaire and Peter were in the process of turning the sofa in the living room a bit to allow them to have a better view of the storm outside, rather than the TV, and Tony was straining a little, trying to swing the heavy couch around. Peter moved beside him and got his hands under the edge to help, but he was used to always keeping an eye on his son, and he smiled when he looked over at the boy.

“No. He loves them. _I’m_ the weenie in the family.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, surprised.

“Really? You don’t like them?”

“No. Not really.”

“Which part? The thunder? Or the lightning?”

Peter blushed – or maybe his ears were turning red from the effort of moving the sofa – although he didn’t look like he was straining, at all.

“I’m not a huge fan of any of it.”

“Huh. But you're here, specifically, to have a better view. Because of Parker?” he guessed.

Peter’s smile was slightly self-depreciating as they finished pushing the couch into the position they wanted it, now facing the balcony window. It wouldn’t be as amazing as if they were _outside_ , but it’d be safer, dryer, and warmer.

“Yeah. I’m the dad, right? I can’t hide under a blanket – or under my bed.”

Awww.

Tony’s smile was tender.

“I’ll hold your hand.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” the younger man said. He straightened up, hitching up the loose sweats. “If you have a blanket to wrap him up in, Parker will probably fall asleep while we’re storm watching.”

“I’ll bring out a couple.”

Tony vanished into his bedroom, and Peter walked over to stand beside his son, who turned to look up at him, but then turned his attention back to the storm, which wasn’t the worst Peter had ever seen, but still made him shiver.

“It’s a good view, isn’t it?” he asked.

Parker nodded, a soft gasp escaping when a bolt of lighting shot across the sky, striking a lightning rod at the top of a building a short way away. It seemed like it was just next door, and far too close for comfort as far as Peter was concerned. His son only pressed closer to the glass, eyes wide and excited.

“Here we go…” Tony’s voice pulled their attention from the storm, and they watched him walk across the room, two blankets slung over his shoulder. “Let’s sit down, guys, and get more comfortable.”

Peter led the way to the sofa and sat down. Parker followed, immediately, and climbed into the young man’s lap, turning himself around so his back was against his father’s stomach and chest, making sure that he was getting held, but could also see outside. Tony smiled at the ultra-homey scene in front of him and draped one of the blankets over them.

“Thank you.”

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asked both of them.

“I’m fine.”

Parker shook his head and leaned over to pat the spot beside them, big brown eyes watching him.

The invitation was plain, and Stark smiled because it was good to be wanted, right? Even when the company was only three and a half. He settled in beside Peter, pulling the other blanket over himself – and a corner of it over Parker, who smiled and leaned back against Peter, again.

“FRIDAY? Turn off the lights.”

The room went dark, and the view only got better. They sat in silence watching the city lights and the darkness, until a streak of brilliant light cut into it. Peter shivered, tensing as he anticipated the thunder that would boom overhead, next, and felt a hand – much larger than his own – slide along his hip and find his hand, taking hold of it under the blanket.

The younger man smiled, and squeezed Tony’s hand, and Stark smiled back, before turning away to watch the storm, just as the thunder rolled across the clouds.

He didn’t release Peter’s hand, though, and Peter didn’t pull it away.


	25. 25

“Is he okay?”

Peter nodded, looking down at the boy who was sleeping in his lap, and then over at Tony. The lights were still off in the apartment living room, but there was enough light coming from a small light in the kitchen and another in the hall that he could see the other man’s face.

“He’s fine,” Peter said, softly. “It’s just way past his bedtime.” It was well after midnight, but Parker had managed to stay awake long enough to watch as the main part of the storm went overhead. He’d fallen asleep sometime in the middle of a barrage of thunder, too sleepy to be kept awake any longer. “I should get him home.”

“That’s a _terrible_ idea,” Tony replied, just as quietly. He was still wrapped in the blanket, but was sitting more upright, now, than he had been. He’d spent much of the time watching the storm with his head resting on Peter’s shoulder. It had been comfortable, and intimate without being intimate. An entirely new thing for Stark, really. “You can’t wake him up and take him out in the rain. He might catch a cold or something – or _you_ might. Just stay the night.”

Peter raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t mind?”

“Of course not. It’ll be much more convenient for you, right?”

“True.”

“We can put him in the guest bed, and you can help me with the couch.”

“He’s fine on the couch, Tony,” the younger man said, pulling the blanket aside. “Unless you have a toddler bed stashed in a guest room, somewhere?”

Stark smiled, carefully unwrapping himself from his own blanket.

“I do not.” _Yet_. “What do you need for him?”

“Get me a pillow, will you? The couch cushions are too big for him. And loan me a shirt to put him in.”

“Sure.” When Tony returned a few minutes later with a pillow in one hand and a long-sleeved t-shirt in the other, he found Parker stripped out of his jeans and t-shirt and wearing only a pair of under-roos. Tony scowled, because they were _Superman_ themed. “I swear I’m going to buy him a truckload of Ironman clothes.”

Peter smiled, taking the shirt and slipping it, expertly, over his son’s head and getting his arms into the sleeves so smoothly that Parker never even stirred. Obviously it wasn't the first time he’d dressed the boy while he was asleep.

“He _has_ Ironman clothes. Some. Socks, maybe? Or a pair of slippers? They’re scratchy and uncomfortable.”

“Think you’re cute, don’t you?” Stark asked, amused.

Peter just smiled and settled his son onto the couch, putting the pillow under his head and then setting the unused cushions on the floor – obviously in case the boy rolled off the couch in his sleep.

“I’m _adorable_.”

Tony nodded, and caught Peter’s hand.

“Yes, you are. Come keep me company.”

Peter hesitated, looking down at Parker.

“I don’t know, Tony… what if he wakes up?”

He wasn’t objecting to the idea of spending some time – _intimate_ time? – with the older man. Peter _wanted_ a repeat of what they’d done. But he was in unchartered territory, really. Wanting to have time for himself, but uncertain how to accomplish that without also being worried that Parker might wake up and panic to find himself alone. Or worse, wake up and come looking for him and find him and Tony in a compromising position.

“FRIDAY can tell us if he wakes up,” Stark reminded him, his eyes dark with hunger, but clearly not pressing any more than he thought Peter would be comfortable. And he was also making sure not to be so impatient that he might say something stupid, or thoughtless, and upset Peter like he had, before. “We won’t be too far away.”

“It can do that?”

“Of course. FRIDAY?”

_“I’ll watch him.”_

Tony smiled.

“See?”

Peter nodded, double-checked the blanket covering the boy and then allowed Tony to lead him into his bedroom.

><><><><>

Stark closed the door, softly, behind them, and turned Peter so that his back was to the wood of the door. Then he kissed him, tenderly to start, and then deeper, delving his tongue into Peter’s mouth until he had to pull back or risk passing out for lack of oxygen. He was so eager, suddenly, to be inside the younger man that he actually had to take a deep breath. In Peter’s story Kyle and Tony were estranged, just then, due to the accidental reveal of Kyle’s super strength and the fact that the fictional Stark had reacted badly to what he’d called dishonesty. The real Tony had a young lover, too, but hadn’t been able to spend as much time with him in bed due to the fact that Parker was Peter’s first priority.

For the moment, though, chance had given him the opportunity to grab some of Peter’s attentions for himself, and since he seemed willing, Tony was going to take advantage of their alone time.

“You’re so sexy,” Stark whispered, running his hands under the too-big shirt and allowing his fingers to slide along those perfect abs. He kissed him, again, and caught a soft whimper of excitement against his lips. “Need me, honey?”

“Yes…”

“Good.” Tony kissed Peter’s cheek, then his jaw, and ran his lips along the younger man’s neck and shoulder, sliding cloth out of the way. “I’m going to put you on your belly and have my way with you… and you’re going to let me, aren’t you?”

Peter shivered at the statement, excited and just as eager. The proof that Tony hadn’t forgotten how much he enjoyed being dominated was enough to make him go weak in the knees, but Tony’s arms were there. His hands were holding him steady while his lips and tongue continued to roam Peter’s jaw, chin, and shoulder.

“Yes.”

“Anything I want.”

“Yes.”

Tony’s hand wandered down to the front of the sweats Peter was wearing, finding his already throbbing cock and cupping it through the well-worn fabric.

“So hard and eager.”

“Keep that up and I’m going to-“

“That’s fine.” Tony pulled Peter’s shirt off, and then walked him to the bed, pushing him down onto it – on his back, so he could look up at him. The front of his sweats was showing the younger man’s arousal in the form of a well-defined tent pole. Stark pulled them off, and Peter’s underwear followed immediately after. “Hold still…”

Peter’s hands went to the bedding that was under him, clutching it as Tony bent over him and began kissing his way from Peter’s chest, down his belly and then lower.

“Please, Tony.”

“Hush.” He stopped his progress long enough to come back up to claim a kiss on Peter’s lips. A long, slow burner of a kiss that showed no indication of the fact that both of them were eager and hard. “Who’s in charge?”

“You are.”

“Who gets to roll you on your belly and have his way with you?”

“You do.”

Tony lowered his head and caught Peter’s cock in his mouth and there was another groan of pleasure. The billionaire growled into the shaft of Peter’s cock, savoring the flavor of the boy and the excitement that he was causing him. He knew Peter was just as celibate as he’d been, lately – more, even, because Tony could drop everything and masturbate when things were hot and heavy in the story, or when the sexual innuendoes were coming hard in a conversation. Peter could, too, but only if Parker was asleep. Stark smiled as well as he could around the mouthful of cock and turned his attention to making sure that Peter had some relief before Tony took his own pleasures with him.

It didn’t take long before Peter was softly gasping, mewling, and making the most amazing noises. The younger man arched, deliciously, into Tony’s mouth, and then watched as Stark pulled back, his cock slowly making an appearance before Tony sucked him in, again. And again. As he played with Peter’s cock with mouth, lips and tongue, a large hand slid its way between them, as well, and Peter groaned when Tony fondled his balls, gently at first and then with more imperiousness when Peter’s hips began bucking in response.

There was a strangled noise, and then that hard shaft tensed, and Tony slid his finger along Peter’s crack as the young man climaxed, driving his ass against the finger and still trying to push his cock deeper as he fed Tony a load of hot cum.

“Jesus…” he muttered, watching as his cock was systematically licked clean by the older man. “That was so good.

“I’m glad you think so.” Tony was amused by how shocked Peter seemed to be at how good it felt to have someone make him climax. It wasn’t the first time for him, now, after all. But he enjoyed the fact that it was still fresh for the younger man. Still exciting. Stark intended to make sure it stayed that way – and part of that was catering to Peter’s kinks. He pressed a final kiss against the head, and pulled back, now. “Roll over.”

Peter did as he was told with a little help from Tony, who promptly nudged his knees apart to open those long legs. Peter looked back over his shoulder, but Tony pushed him head down, gently, but firmly.

“Stay right there,” he ordered. “Understand?”

“Yes.”

Peter took another hold on the bedding, spreading his knees even more, his entire body tense. Tony hadn’t actually _planned_ a seduction, that night, and it was apparent when he had to leave that spot between the young man’s legs to go to the bathroom for lube and a condom. He was only gone a few moments, but as he walked back, he admired the sight of the slight young man on his bed, face in the bedding, legs open and ass in the air waiting for him. Peter’s cock was already hard, again, hanging between his legs, the head brushing against the bedding. Tony lubed his hand, rubbing it with the other to make sure it was warm, and then slid his fingers around that hard shaft.

“So eager for me, aren’t you?”

Peter moaned, but didn’t deny it. He pressed backward.

“Yes.”

“Ready for me to have my way with you…?”

That lean frame trembled with anticipation, and Tony released Peter’s cock and slid his hand along Peter’s ass cheek, and then between them.

“Please, Tony.”

“It’s going to happen. Be patient. I want to admire your body, first.”

He stripped his clothes off and got onto the bed, his own knees in between Peter’s, forcing them apart and making them stay apart, now, even if he’d wanted to close them. He ran his palm along Peter’s spine, from his neck, between his shoulder blades, and down to the swell of his ass. Peter shifted under him and Tony swatted his ass cheek, playfully.

“Hold still.”

Another noise, muffled by the blankets, but the younger man did as he was told. Tony waited a moment, and then slid a well-lubed finger along that lovely crack and forced it into Peter’s tight hole. The sound Peter made was exciting, and Tony didn’t hesitate when he started stretching those deliciously tight inner muscles, preparing Peter, quickly, but carefully, for him. He bent over and pressed a kiss against the small of Peter’s back as another finger joined the first. Peter’s hands clenched the bedding and his entire being tensed at the intrusion.

“Tony…”

“Shhh… we’re almost there.”

He wanted to be firmer, but he couldn’t. He wanted to make Peter wait. Make him writhe in excitement and anticipation, but he couldn’t do that, either. Those things would have required him to be much more patient than he was. Would have made him wait, as well. Tony didn’t want to wait. He wanted to be inside Peter. Wanted to show Peter that anything he had the fictional Tony do to Kyle, he would do – twice – to Peter. Would make him beg. Would make him moan. Would make him cry with how good he felt.

His own thoughts were working him up, of course, and Tony moved his hand, releasing his grasp on Peter and kissing his lower back once more before he moved, again. Now, though, he was ready. So ready it ached. Tony rolled the condom on and lubed himself thoroughly. Then he caressed Peter’s ass with one hand and guided the head of his cock, sliding it along Peter’s crack a moment. Peter tensed, again, and Tony pressed against that perfect hole, forcing himself in without hesitation, while the hard, young, body under him pressed back just as eagerly.

“Yes…”

The groan of satisfaction was all Tony needed to hear. He grabbed Peter’s hips, rough with excitement, and thrust himself into his young lover.

“That’s it,” Tony crooned, already pulling out to make another thrust. “Take it, honey. All of it.”

Peter moaned, doing what he was told because he didn’t have a choice, really. And he loved it. He was pinned under Tony’s weight, and while he could have shaken him off, of course, there wasn’t any place that he wanted to be, more, just then. It was exciting, and erotic, and dirty. Better than anything that he’d ever written. Maybe even better than their first time, because it wasn’t quite as new and uncertain for him, now.

He reveled in the feeling of being full of Tony. Of being under Tony. Being possessed by Tony. The thick cock that was now thrusting into him with even, hard, strokes was so perfect. He bit down a cry of pleasure when Tony brushed his prostate on a thrust, and buried his face back in the bedding to muffle what he couldn’t suppress. Peter arched against his next thrust, the invasion so perfect. His own cock was being pushed into the bedding with each movement, and that was exciting, too. Not as exciting as the sounds that Tony was making above him, or the hand that would occasionally slap his ass, then knead it, and then grasp him to make sure he was getting every inch there was to offer.

Peter grunted, again, when he climaxed into the bedding, mostly untouched, and felt Tony’s hand in his hair, pulling his head up and around at that exact moment of his release, as if the billionaire wanted to watch his face while his cock spasmed into the blanket and his entire being strained to finish his release.

Tony’s hand forced his head back enough that he could kiss him, and Peter was driven back down when there was a final, hard, thrust, and Tony buried himself deeply, his own body trembling with release. He collapsed on top of Peter, arms holding the younger man, body covering him like a heavy, sweaty blanket, and he buried his face against Peter’s neck.

“Jesus, Peter… You’re so fucking perfect for me.”

Peter chuckled, weakly, but didn’t disagree.

“That was so good.”

“Yes.” Tony hitched his hips a few more times for good measure – and because it just felt amazing. “You’re such a good fit.” There was a sound of agreement, and Tony pulled reluctantly from Peter, kissing his shoulder as he did. “I’ll be right back. Get under the blankets before you get chilled.”

“Yeah…”

Peter did as he was told, slowly getting off the bed to push the soiled blanket back. He noticed there was another, so he just stripped that one from the bed, completely, and got under the remaining blankets, shivering with his release, still, and the aftermath of it.

“Are you alright?” Tony asked, rejoining him, and sliding under the covers with him, gathering him against his body.

“Yes.” He stretched, luxuriating in the novelty of being held. And the greater novelty of being well-fucked. “I should go check on Parker…”

“FRIDAY will keep an eye on him, honey,” Stark assured him. “If he moves, she’ll let us know, so you can be there when he wakes up.”

“She can do that?”

“All that and more,” he replied. “Go to sleep.”


	26. 26

“I checked out your writer buddy.”

Tony frowned, trying not to show any surprise when Natasha Romanoff seemed to materialize from nowhere beside him as he walked toward the executive elevator from his car.

“Yeah. I know. I saw you at the park the other day when we were there. I thought you were a ninja, or something.”

She shrugged.

“It’s hard to hide from your tech.”

“True.”

“I’m curious how _Peter Parker_ knew I was there, though.”

The billionaire raised an eyebrow.

“I wasn’t aware that he did. He didn’t mention seeing you.”

“He _didn’t_ see me.”

“Then he didn’t know you were there, did he?”

The assassin shrugged, again.

“He knew something was up.”

“Yeah? How?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You said you checked him out?” Tony asked, changing the subject.

“I did.”

“Did you read his books?”

“Not, yet.” She smiled. “I read some of his _other_ works.”

Tony wasn’t surprised that she’d found Peter’s fanfiction. Of course, Peter’s alternate writing didn’t all focus on _Tony’s_ love life, either. Stark had read a story or two that featured _Natasha_ , as well. He smiled.

“It’s good, isn’t it?”

“Surprisingly so,” she conceded. “His son is cute.”

Tony leaned against the frame by the elevator, not pressing the button, just yet.

“Yes. Did you find something that I should know about?” he asked, abruptly. “Are you here to tell me that he’s secretly a mob boss, or some kind of contract killer?”

Romanoff shook her head.

“No. As near as I can tell, he’s everything that he seems to be.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Tony was thoroughly enjoying his relationship with Peter.

They’d woken in each other’s arms the morning after the storm and had spent a little time simply being together before FRIDAY had advised them that Parker was stirring. Peter had dressed and gone to make sure his son wasn’t freaked out waking in a – relatively – strange place all alone. Breakfast had been at Tony’s, but lunch had been at Peter and Parker’s after a morning at the park.

They might have spent the rest of the day, together, too, but Tony received a summons to the tower for a last-minute meeting that he couldn’t get out of and had excused himself, reluctantly. A day of domestic quiet had been relaxing. Parker was a handful, yes, but he was _Peter’s_ handful. Tony could enjoy the little boy’s company because it didn’t really come with any responsibility beyond making sure that he didn’t fall off something he might be climbing on, and activating his suit whenever the little guy tapped his chest, hopefully.

Both Tony and Peter had busy schedules for the rest of the week, but each night they’d spoken on the phone, video calls allowing them to see each other when their schedules didn’t allow anything in person. Peter had managed to post a new update to the Secret Keeper story, and Tony had lamented the angst of the estrangement between his fictional counterpart and the young Kyle. The writer had smiled, agreeing completely, but not willing to bring the two back together prematurely – despite Tony pointing out just how much fun he’d get to have writing the make up sex scene.

The next weekend Parker had gone to his grandma and grandpa’s for a couple of days, and Tony had gone to Peter’s, where they’d spent the time in between Peter working on his newest book idea and the various chores that needed doing around the house in Peter’s bed, enjoying the physical side of their relationship with an abandon that left them both sweaty and remarkably satiated.

Kyle and Tony Stark were having a rough go of things, just then, but Tony Stark and Peter Parker were having a good time.

“Why don’t you introduce me to him?”

Stark frowned.

“Why?”

“Because I want to meet him.”

“Because…?”

Romanoff shrugged.

“I just have a feeling there’s more to him than meets the eye, and I want to find out what it is.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want you scaring him off,” was the reply. “I like this guy and I’m not going to have you interrogating him and being crazy suspicious around him. He’s a good guy.”

“I’m not going to be crazy,” she promised. “And I’m not going to interrogate him. I just want to talk to him – in a casual setting.”

“To see what makes him tick?”

“To get to know him, better.”

And _maybe_ to see what makes him tick.

“No.”

She wasn't ready to give up.

“I won’t _hurt_ him.”

“I’m not worried about you hurting him, Natasha,” Stark told her. She was a spy and an assassin, but she wasn’t a psycho. “But he’s not stupid. He knows about you, and at least some of your skill set. I don’t want him to think I’m having you check him out.”

“If he’s smart, he’ll understand, completely,” she pointed out. “You’re a pretty important member of the Avengers, it only makes sense that we’d want to get to know him, better, since he’s spending so much time with you.”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“No.”

Stark sighed.

“I’ll ask him if he wants to come out to the compound.”

“Thank you.”

“And in return, _you’ll_ convince the others to be there and make themselves accessible to _Parker_ , who happens to be a huge fan of all things Avengers.”

“Wait…”

“Nope. They’re a set. You want to talk to Peter? Great. Fine. You can talk to _Parker_ , too – and so can the others. Maybe I’ll make a suggestion to Peter that Jack and Snaps should meet the Avengers, or something, for an upcoming story.”

Romanoff scowled, but then she nodded.

“Fine. See what he says and I’ll talk to the others.”

“Not Bruce.”

“No. Of course not.” She smiled. “Thank you.”

“If you scare him away, I swear I’ll never talk to you, again.”

><><><><><>

Peter frowned when Tony passed the invitation to the younger man the next time that he saw him. He could have brought it up over the phone, but he decided it was something that was more of a face to face conversation. They were sitting on Peter’s front porch, watching the other people in the neighborhood going about their day, while keeping an eye on Parker, who was playing with a balloon that Tony had brought for him. A gift that wasn’t even close to as expensive as the child-centric data tablet that Tony had brought one day – or the bouncy castle that he’d mentioned getting him the time before.

Peter had vetoed the bouncy castle, pointing out that while it would be a lot of fun for the boy – and maybe for his _father_ – it was pretty extravagant and Peter didn’t really have room in the backyard for it, and he didn’t want to clutter the front with something that would almost certainly draw the neighbor kids over to use it any chance they had. It was the thought that counted, Peter had told Tony, kissing him, lightly. But simple was better, just then, and Parker was easy to please.

As proved by the balloon that he was chasing around the fenced in front yard.

“What?”

“I said the Avengers sent an invitation for you and Parker to go out to the compound to spend the day.”

“They know about me?” Peter asked, surprised.

“Of course they do.”

“Do they know we’re sleeping together?”

“Some of them probably _assume_ that we are,” Tony conceded. “I haven’t told anyone, of course, but they’re intelligent, and they do have access to SHIELD. Even I can’t keep a secret from them for too long,” he added. “But in this case, I wouldn’t keep it a secret, anyway. You’re amazing.”

The younger man flushed at the compliment, but wasn’t quite as distracted by it as Tony might have hoped.

“They want to meet me because they’re _curious_?” he asked. “Or because they want to make sure I’m not some kind of plant sent by a foreign power or spy network to seduce and distract you?”

Tony smiled. Natasha had been right. But he already knew Peter was intelligent.

“Probably not quite so bad as that, but they are curious about you. And, to an extent, Parker, because we can all count on one hand just how many little kids I’m hanging around with, right now – or ever have. Interested?”

“When?”

“Whenever is good for you – and doesn’t coincide with an alien invasion, or something similar.”

Peter hesitated, but Tony recognized that he wasn’t declining. He was considering his schedule – and Parker’s. Proof of that came a moment, later.

“I’m free this weekend. Parker’s aunt Sherry was planning on taking him if I asked her to – to give me some time to work – but I can rearrange things. Is that enough notice?”

“Of course.” If it wasn't, then that was just too bad, really. The Avengers could adjust as needed. “I’ll drive us out.” He smiled. “Unless you’re afraid that I’m going to drive you out to some secluded area and eat you?”

A call back to their initial conversation, which seemed like years ago, but really hadn’t been that long. How things could change, Peter thought with a smile.

“You can eat me, later,” he said, softly, even though Parker was much too far away to hear him. “And _then_ , when you’ve had your fill, I’ll eat you.”

Tony groaned, amused and agonized at the same time.

“Jesus, honey, you can’t say sexy, hot, things like that when there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Sorry.” He wasn’t, though, and Tony knew it. “Any idea what they have planned?”

“No clue,” Stark admitted. He leaned over and rested his hand on the younger man’s thigh, brushing his fingers against the inside of Peter’s leg. “I’ll find out and let you know.”

“Sounds good. Thanks.”


	27. 27

“Tell me again why I’m doing this?”

Romanoff looked over at Sam.

“Because I want to see this guy, face to face, and talk to him in person.”

Falcon rolled his eyes.

“That’s why _you’re_ doing it,” he said, watching as the expensive mid-sized SUV turned the final curve to pull into the front staging area of the compound. “I asked why I am. I could be out with some hottie, enjoying the beach before summer ends, and working on my tan.”

The assassin smirked.

“You’re here because I need you guys to distract the little guy.”

“How little are we talking, here?” Steve asked.

“He’s three.”

“Three and a _half_ ,” Clint corrected. “That half is important to little kids.”

He knew, since he had kids of his own – unlike the rest of them.

There wasn't a reply. The SUV came to a stop in front of the small group, and Tony smiled at them from behind the wheel, before turning and looking at the booster seat in the back. The tinted windows didn’t allow the waiting Avengers to see what he was looking at, and Tony unbuckled his seatbelt, saying something to the young man sitting next to him in the front before both front doors opened.

“Good. You’re here,” he said, getting out of the car. “Thanks.”

A concession to the fact that he knew they all had very little free time and an acknowledgement that he appreciated them using some of it to meet Parker.

“We’re here,” Rhodey agreed. He smiled at the young man who walked around the front of the car, coming to a stop beside Tony. Peter Parker was young, slight, and good-looking. Rhodey wasn't surprised that his friend was attracted to him. But a man with a child? That was insane enough that Rhodey had practically invited himself out for the weekend before Romanoff could finish telling him what was going on. He’d know Tony was seeing someone, but he hadn’t had a lot of opportunities to ask about that person, and only knew that it was a younger guy. “You must be Peter.”

The young man nodded, offering his hand.

“Peter Parker. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Colonel Rhodes.”

Rhodey’s smile broadened. It was always nice to be recognized, after all.

“Thanks. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Which made _Peter’s_ smile broaden, as well.

“Should I be worried?”

“It was all good,” he was assured.

“Of course it was,” Tony agreed. He put a hand on Peter’s shoulder, looking at Natasha, specifically. “Guys, this is Peter. We’ll introduce you to Parker, too, as soon as he wakes up.”

“It’s good to meet you, Peter,” Steve said, also offering a hand.

“Thanks.” He couldn’t help the slight surge of excitement as he shook Roger’s hand. It was Captain Freaking America, after all. “It’s an honor.”

“Ugh,” Tony rolled his eyes. “Stop fanboying over him, honey. He gets that all the time. Call him ugly, or something.”

Rather than be offended, or embarrassed, Peter grinned.

“How do you put up with that?” he asked Rogers.

“Now you know why he doesn’t _live here_.”

Romanoff smiled that that and stepped up, also, offering Peter her hand.

“I’m Natasha Romanoff.”

“I know,” Peter said, his eyes cheerful, and very much relaxed around them. Tony had been telling him and Parker stories about them all as they driven up from the city. Parker had fallen asleep, lulled by the hum of the engine and the gentle motion of the ride, but Peter had listened, feeling a little nervous and a lot excited to be meeting the actual Avengers. “It’s an honor and a pleasure.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Peter,” she told him, taking his hand.

“From Tony?”

“From _Clint_.”

Stark looked over her shoulder at Barton.

“From _Clint_?”

The archer smiled, looking slightly sheepish as he, too, offered Peter his hand.

“My kids _love_ Jack and Snaps,” he said – to Tony _and_ to Peter. “It’s great to meet you. I’ve read all of your books – _countless_ times.”

If Peter could look more cheerful, he managed it.

“Thank you.”

“Are you working on anything new?” Barton asked. “Some good gossip I can take back to my kids?”

“They’re going to the moon, next.”

“Ooo, that’s a good one. Are there going to be Martians?”

“There aren’t any Martians on the moon, Clint,” Natasha pointed out, amused at how Barton was gushing over Peter, while Peter was clearly just as excited to meet the Avengers. “They’d be Moontians, or something.”

“ _Moontians_?” Tony rolled his eyes. “Are we going to stand out here all day? I’m stiff from the drive and I need to pee.”

Peter nodded.

“I’ll get Parker.”

The billionaire looked at the others, even as he opened the back door for Peter.

“He fell asleep about three miles into the drive, so he shouldn’t be too grumpy if he wakes up.”

“Especially waking up to the Avengers,” Peter said, the top half of his body disappearing into the back of the car, holding in place for a minute and then returning – only now holding Parker, who was waking up in his arms. The little boy was rumpled, his hair flat on one side and sticking up on the other, and he looked around, owlishly, his brown eyes sleepy. “This is Parker,” Peter told them, brushing gentle fingers through the boy’s curls to try and tame them. “Parker, buddy, these are the Avengers.”

“He’s cute,” Natasha said.

“He gets that from _me_ ,” Tony told them, also reaching into the car and pulling a small bag that held all the supplies needed for a daytime excursion to the compound. Mainly toys and things to keep Parker occupied in case he showed zero interest in the Avengers. You never knew with kids, after all. “Let’s go.”

He really _did_ need to pee.

The others turned to lead them into the building, with Steve holding the door for everyone. Peter looked around with interest.

“This place is amazing,” he said, already impressed – and he hadn’t even seen that much of it. He’d researched it as well as he could for his fanfiction stories, after all. “Thanks for having us out.”

“Glad to do it,” Steve said.

“It gives us a chance to get to know you,” Rhodes agreed. “Tony’s all ‘Peter this’, and ‘Peter that’. We had to see the real deal.”

“I’m afraid the reality isn’t all that interesting,” the young man told them, amused.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Tony said. “You’re only twenty-one and you have a solid career and your head in on straight. That’s a hell of an accomplishment.”

“He’s right,” Rhodey agreed. “ _Tony_ was still rebelling at twenty-one.”

“He was rebelling at _thirty_ -one, too,” Romanoff added, smirking.

Stark rolled his eyes, again, but he was willing to allow them to have their fun at his expense – but only because it was for Peter.

“Are you taking them to the lounge?”

Steve nodded.

“It’ll give us a chance to sit him down and get to know him, better.”

“I’ll meet you there, then.” He handed Parker’s bag to Sam, but looked at Peter. “Are you good?”

“Sure.”

It was the Avengers, after all. And besides, they couldn’t _all_ be cannibals, right? He and Parker were probably safe.

“We’ll take good care of him, Tony,” Natasha assured him. “Come to the lounge.”

“Yeah.”

Tony left them at an intersection in the corridor, but the others were fine with that.

“Tell me more about the new book, Peter,” Clint said.

“If he tells you the plot, you’re not going to buy it when it comes out,” Sam pointed out.

“No… I have all of them,” Clint said. “They are a staple in the Barton household. And a _lot_ of other households, I know.”

If the others were surprised by how interested Barton was, they didn’t allow it to show. But there was obviously more to Peter Parker than met the eye.


	28. 28

By the time Stark arrived in the lounge area of the compound, the Avengers had installed Peter in a chair at the largest of the table, and Parker was beginning to wake up a bit more and was taking an interest in the others. Peter had a cup of coffee in front of him – as did all of the others – and they were discussing the compound and what, exactly, the Avengers did there when they weren’t out fighting aliens and secret evil societies.

Even as Steve was finishing his explanation, Tony sat down, smiling at Parker, who looked up at him, cheerful now that he was awake.

“Hey, big man,” Tony murmured, tapping the little guy, lightly, on the nose. “Did you have a good nap?”

Parker nodded, leaning over and silently asking to be held by him. Tony obliged, taking him from his father’s embrace, and putting the boy in a better position to stare at Natasha, who was in the chair beside Tony.

The assassin had been paying close attention to Peter and the questions that he was asking, but now she found her attention drawn to the younger Parker, since those big, brown, eyes of his were hard to ignore. As was the smile the boy turned on her when she looked at him. Peter was watching, but it was Tony who smirked when Parker held his hands out to Romanoff, clearly wanting a change of positions.

“Ignore him, Ms. Romanoff,” Peter said. “He’s fine with Tony.”

Even though it definitely hadn’t been said as a challenge, Natasha couldn’t help herself when she offered her arms to Parker, and he smiled, widely, when he was taken from Tony and cuddled against her, instead. He looked at Tony, and then at his father, and then looked up at her, and she ran her fingers through his curls, easily, as she held him steady with the other hand.

“I don’t mind,” she assured Peter. “I like children.”

“Nat’s great with mine,” Clint agreed. “Hasn’t dropped one, yet.”

Parker looked up at her, expectantly, and then looked at Tony. Then looked back at her.

“What’s he trying to tell me?” she asked, curiously, smiling, slightly. They all had been warned that Parker didn’t speak. Natasha, of course, had already found that out in her research. “I think I’m missing something.”

Peter shrugged, but before he could say anything, Parker tapped on his own chest, and then reached up at tapped his hand, lightly, against Natasha’s chest, too, between her breasts.

Rhodey snorted.

“He’s been spending too much time with _Tony_.”

“He’s waiting,” Stark said, amused. “Parker?” The little boy looked over at him, his hand still on Natasha. “She doesn’t _have_ a suit, buddy.”

Romanoff was quick, and proved it. She smiled down at the boy, shaking her head.

“He’s right, sweetheart. I do everything the _hard_ way.”

Tony tapped _his_ chest, though, and Parker sat up, looking at him while the Ironman suit formed around him. The little boy had seen it several times, by then, but it was still exciting to him, and it never got old for _Tony_. The little boy’s mouth formed a small o and he looked back up at Natasha, as if to see her reaction – perhaps thinking that she would be as surprised as he had been the first time he’d seen it.

“It’s pretty neat,” she conceded.

“That’s nothing,” Sam said, getting to his feet and moving away from the table. “Check _this_ out, Parker,” he said, waiting until the boy was looking at him, and then activating his own suit.

A moment later, large wings shot out from either side of Sam’s torso, and Parker gasped.

Sam nodded, pleased with the reaction, and Tony disengaged his helmet and rolled his eyes, but _he_ was pleased with the reaction, too, because he liked it when Parker made noises – even if he wasn’t speaking.

“Rhodey has a suit, too,” Tony told the boy. “Why don’t we go outside and give you a demonstration before lunch?”

Parker nodded so hard that he almost fell out of Natasha’s lap, saved only by her grip on him.

“Am I invited?” Peter asked, smiling at his son’s reaction to having so many superheroes around him.

“Of course.”

They all stood up. Peter reached for Parker but the boy turned his head, keeping a tight grip on Natasha, who smiled, privately delighted that the little guy was comfortable enough with her that he was willing to forgo being carried by his father.

“She probably _smells_ better,” Steve said, smirking at the look Romanoff tossed his way.

“Or he just wants to be held by a woman,” Tony suggested. “He does have a lot more _aunts_ than he has uncles, after all.”

“I’m going to go suit up,” Rhodey told them. “I’ll meet you guys outside in a few minutes.”

“When does _Rhodes_ get a nanotech War Machine suit?” Steve asked as the rest of them headed for the door.

“When I’m secure in the knowledge that the government won’t try to reverse engineer it and release a plague of miniature robots loose on the world when they screw it up.”

“Could that happen?” Peter asked, curiously, walking beside Natasha Romanoff. Not because he didn’t trust her to carry Parker without dropping him, but because he wanted to be ready if the boy changed his mind about her holding him and started getting fussy. “Can they go rogue?”

“Mine can’t,” Stark said. “But I wouldn’t trust Justin Hammer to fix my washing machine, really, and he’s the one that they would probably hand the project to.”

Before anyone could respond, they were walking out into the bright late morning sunshine. Tony stopped, looking at Parker, who was watching him, expectantly. The little boy tapped his chest, understanding what he was waiting for, and Tony activated his suit, again, causing Parker to giggle.

“Stay back, little man,” Sam said, moving over beside Stark and slapping his own chest, activating the Falcon suit.

A moment later he launched into the air and Natasha almost dropped Parker, who was suddenly almost upside down in her arms trying to get a better look. A tightening of her grip and a slightly apologetic look Peter’s way, made the young man smile, and shrug.

“He’s squirmy.”

Who would know better, after all?

“Cute, though.”

Peter nodded, his gaze softening as he turned his attention from the two Avengers that were now in the air, hovering, so he could run a hand through Parker’s hair.

“Yes, he is.”

Rhodes appeared at the doorway a moment later, proving to Peter, anyway, that it didn’t take long to suit up. The war Machine armor plating glinted in the summer sun as it moved over to the edge of the grass.

Parker lifted a hand, pointing his finger at Ironman, not at all interested in being complimented, just then, and not noticing the newcomer, just yet. Peter followed his gaze, just in time to see Tony shoot up into the air, boosters flaring, and followed, immediately, by War Machine.

“Hang onto him, Nat,” Clint said, also looking up. “Tony’s probably planning on putting on a crazy impressive show.”

“Yeah.”

Of course, he was. He loved to show off, after all – and they all knew it.

><><><><><>><

“That was some pretty fancy flying…”

Steve nodded his agreement, sitting beside Peter when they were back in the lounge a little less than an hour later.

“They love any reason to show people what they can do.”

“Especially people who haven’t _seen_ it before,” Natasha added, looking at Tony and Rhodes, who were sitting beside each other across the table from them.

Both men gave her innocent looks, and Tony rested his chin on the top of Parker’s head.

“It’s educating the public, Agent Romanoff,” Tony said. “Might as well show people what they can expect, if something happens and we’re needed.” He shifted so he could look down at the boy that he was holding. “Right, Parker?”

Parker nodded his agreement, although he clearly didn’t look interested in the conversation.

Tony, Sam, and Rhodes had given an impressive aerial display – even for them. Always agile in the air, Falcon was most bird-like and graceful of the three, and War Machine was brimming with weaponry, but it had been Tony that Parker had reached for when the three men finished their demonstration with a flourish of superhero landings, and had then walked over to the small crowd watching.

The little boy’s eyes were wide as Tony disengaged his suit, and the billionaire felt just a little burst of happiness when Parker silently asked him to hold him. It wasn’t because he was _falling_ for the little guy, Tony told himself, firmly, even as he reached for him and accepted the excited hug. He was just happy because Parker obviously liked him more than he liked Romanoff. That had to be the reason he felt so content, just then.

“Do you feel _educated_ , yet, Peter?” Clint asked, amused.

The elder Parker nodded, relaxed among the amazing people that were sitting around the table with him in a way that he never would have believed possible. Of course, it didn’t hut that they were all consciously trying to put him at ease.

“It was more fun than a Power point,” he said. “And more exciting than a lecture.”

“I can give you _both_ , later,” Stark assured him. “But I’m ready to eat, now. How about you, Parker?”

There was an excited nod, and Tony waved his free hand at a kitchen worker, silently telling him that they were ready to eat. The menu wasn’t varied; if they wanted variety they could always go eat buffet with the trainees in the mess hall. Lunch was going to be rice and chicken, although instead of baked chicken like the others were having, Tony had made sure that there was a supply of chicken nuggets for Parker.

Natasha turned her attention from the child to his father, her own demeanor much more relaxed with him than it had been, earlier.

“Tell us more about you, Peter,” she requested.

The young man wasn’t surprised by the request, and he glanced at Tony, first, as if to say I told you so.

“Sure. What do you want to know?”

He was pretty much an open book, after all, and while he did have secrets that he had no intentions of telling any of them – including Tony – there was plenty about him that he was more than willing to share.

“Everything,” Sam said.

“That won’t take long,” Peter admitted, wryly.

He smiled, though, and started telling them more about him than they could simply read on a computer screen.


	29. 29

“Well…?”

Peter smiled over at Tony, and then glanced over his shoulder at his son, who was once more installed in his booster seat. It was a permanent addition to the new small SUV that Tony was now driving in deference to the fact that when he and Peter went somewhere, there was always a chance – a _good_ chance – that Parker would be with them. The boy was playing with a Captain America toy that Steve had handed him earlier that evening in the lounge, and smiled at his father when he noticed the attention.

“Well, what?” Peter asked Tony, looking back at him, since Parker was perfectly content to play with the doll.

“What did you think of them?”

“They’re more down to earth than I expected.”

“You _write_ them pretty down to earth…” he pointed out, merging the SUV onto the highway, and setting the cruise control. “You didn’t think that they would be?”

Peter shrugged.

“I wrote them that way because I _wanted_ them to be that way. I like the idea of the Avengers being regular people – who just happen to also be _extraordinary_.”

The billionaire nodded.

“So they are. For the most part.”

They really had been, Peter thought, as he settled in for the drive back to the city.

The Avengers had spent part of the visit interrogating him (he couldn’t think of another word to use) while they’d had a simple lunch of soup, sandwiches, and a vegetable platter. When lunch was over and they were out of questions, they’d taken Peter and Parker on a tour, showing them everything the compound had to offer – including Steve Rogers letting Parker hold his iconic shield, which had sent Peter into a semi frenzy of picture taking as he captured that moment for all time.

The tour had ended back at the lounge, and had taken so long (and been so thorough) that Tony, Peter, and Parker were invited to stay for _dinner_ , as well. They’d accepted, and while they ate, Peter had taken the opportunity to learn more about the people behind the personas. Not only because he wanted to know about them because they were associated with Tony, but he had to admit, he couldn’t wait to have a chance to write a story – maybe not the _Secret Keeper_ one, but a future story – with the knowledge of what they were really like rattling around in the back of his mind as he did.

After the meal, Tony had announced that they needed to get on the road if they were going to get Parker home before his bedtime (which wasn’t going to happen, anyway, it was already too late). The little boy had managed to wheedle his way back into Natasha’s lap, by then, and it was hard to tell who was less enamored of the idea of them leaving, Romanoff or the little boy.

Getting them separated had taken almost half an hour, and had only eventually happened when Natasha, herself, promised Parker that she’d see him again soon, and had carried him to the car. Peter had thanked them all for the tour and the company, and had shaken hands with them, pointing out to Clint that if he was ever in the city with his children, then he should call Peter and bring them by so he could meet them.

“I’ll do that,” Barton said, looking pleased at the notion.

Then Natasha had kissed Parker, noisily, making him giggle, and they’d left.

“It was a fun day,” Peter said. “Thank you for bringing us – even if it was just because they wanted to make sure I’m not a spy, or some kind of double agent.”

“They enjoyed it, too,” Tony assured him. “Otherwise they would have sent us on our way after lunch. Do you need to make any stops on the way home?”

Stark knew Peter’s patterns, by now, of course, and knew that the weekend was when he usually did his grocery shopping, and ran the mundane errands that might be needed.

“No, we’re good, I think.” He yawned, and Tony was amused to see Parker echo the motion in his review mirror. “It’s been a long day and I want to get Parker to bed.”

“Are you going to write, tonight?”

“Maybe.”

“They’re about ready to kiss and make up, right?”

“Pretty soon. Maybe one more chapter of pining, and self reproach.”

“Ugh.”

The younger man smile, reaching over and resting his hand, lightly, on Tony’s leg.

“Who makes the first move?” he asked. “Kyle? Or Tony?”

“ _Kyle’s_ the one who’s in the wrong. He should be the one to apologize. Then Tony can accept it and they can live happily ever after.”

Peter rolled his eyes, although Tony didn’t see the action since he had his focus somewhat on the road. Of course the billionaire wasn’t going to want his fictional representation to be the one asking for forgiveness. Peter understood that, really – although he wasn’t going to automatically let Tony have his way.

“How do they breach the subject?” he asked, curiously. “What do you think should happen to get them talking, again?”

“Kyle can’t just come to Tony’s front door, right?”

“I don’t think that he’d want to, no.”

“Maybe a chance meeting?”

“A billionaire superhero isn’t going to have a chance meeting with a former intern. They aren’t running around in the same circles, are they?”

“Ugh. Fanfiction is more complicated than I thought,” Tony complained.

“If you want it to be at least a little realistic, yes, it is.”

“Kyle met Happy in your story,” Tony reminded him. “And he knows Pepper – a little – because he ran errands for her, once.” Proving that he really had read the story. “Maybe one of them will set him straight?”

“Or can set _Tony_ straight,” Peter added.

“I don’t know that he, slash, _me_ would really listen to them if they tried to give me advice on my love life.”

“Well, it’s fiction,” Peter reminded him, not for the first time. “We’ll see what comes to mind.”

“Can I come home with you for a while?”

He knew that Tony wasn’t asking for a bootie call – not with Parker in the back seat going home, as well. The request made the younger man smile.

“Of course – as long as _Parker_ says it’s okay.”

Tony smirked, glancing in the rearview mirror at the youngster in the back seat.

“He’s _asleep_.

Peter turned to look over his shoulder, and his smile softened when he turned back.

“You could stay the night, if you want,” he said, softly. “We’d like the company.”

It was the first time that the offer had been made for him to stay at Peter’s – although he and Parker had overnighted at Tony’s a few times, now, with Parker sleeping in the toddler-sized bed that Tony had put in the guest room especially for him.

“Can I sleep with you?”

“ _Sleep_ with me, yes,” Peter replied, and once more his hand found its way to Tony’s leg. The billionaire took it, enjoying a domesticity with Peter and his son that he’d never expected he’d even be interested in. “Fully clothed, however, in case Parker wakes up.”

They didn’t have FRIDAY at Peter’s house, after all, to keep them apprised of what the little boy was doing.

“I can live with that.”

He loved having Peter’s naked body tucked up against his own, feeling warm skin and lean muscle under his hand, but he was fine with clothes, too. He was fine with anything that allowed him to be with Peter, really.

Peter already knew that Tony didn’t have any plans the next day.

“We’ll make you breakfast,” he offered.

“Sounds good. Nothing special planned for tomorrow?”

“Nope. Laundry and house cleaning.”

“Or… we could take your son to the zoo.”

“You want to go to the zoo?”

“I think he’d have a good time.”

And so would Tony, but he wouldn’t admit it.

“Then we accept.”

“Good.”


	30. 30

They had pulled into Peter’s driveway and Tony had parked the SUV behind the younger man’s sedan when Peter’s cell rang. The sound, gentle though it was, brought Parker awake with a start, and he smiled at his son to reassure him and then checked his caller ID.

“It’s Roger,” he told Tony, unbuckling his seatbelt.

Then he put his phone back in his pocket.

“Aren’t you going to answer it?” Tony asked, curiously.

By then, he knew all of the people that Peter generally spent any time with; Parker’s aunts and uncle – and grandparents – and May and Ben on Peter’s side. He hadn’t _met_ the publisher, yet, but he’d heard about him and had listened in on a couple of late night calls that had caught him on Peter’s sofa, watching the young man write, or sketch.

“I’ll call him back when I get Parker inside.”

“I’ll get Parker,” Tony offered. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you.”

Peter got out of the car, answering the call as he did, and Tony looked over his shoulder at Parker.

“Are you awake?”

There was a nod and a sleepy smile, and the billionaire unbuckled and got out from behind the wheel, opening Parker’s door, and leaning in to unbuckle the booster seat harness. A specially designed one that mimicked the same safety straps that were used on the Quinjet. Peter called it _overkill_ , but Tony hadn’t driven a little kid around in a car, before, and he wanted to make sure that Parker was safe if something unexpected happened.

“Do you want to walk?” Tony asked when the harness was detached. “Or be carried?”

In reply Parker held his arms out, and Tony scooped him out of the seat, easily, and with much more confidence than the first time he’d ever done it. One arm and hand tucked the boy against his side and his chest, while the other reached for the activity bag. He smiled down at Parker when the youngster tapped his palm against Tony’s chest, trying to activate the Ironman suit and failing.

“You _know_ it only works for me,” he reminded the boy, pressing his nose against Parker’s. “I’ll do it for you, later,” he added, looking over at Peter, who was engrossed in whatever the conversation was, and heading for the porch rather than wait for him.

Parker giggled, and Tony handed him the strap for the bag, reaching into his pocket for his keys. This was one of the times that he appreciated FRIDAY the most, because he was juggling bag, and kid, and keys all at once. If they were at his place, the door could just open for him. He managed, though, with little issue (another thing that he was getting good at) and opened the front door with the housekey that Peter had given him only the week before – after proclaiming that he was convinced that the older man wasn’t a serial killer/cannibal.

He left the door open for Peter and dropped the bag on the back of the couch, and then set Parker next to it.

“You need to brush your teeth and get ready for bed.”

There was a nod of agreement, and Tony smiled and ran his fingers through those soft curls.

“Want help?”

He _needed_ help, Tony knew, and _he_ was now pretty good at doing the basic things with the little boy. Helping him brush his teeth and then getting out a pair of pajamas to get him changed into wasn't that difficult – although he’d never have believed it was something that he’d ever do.

Not in a million years.

Parker nodded, and Tony picked him up, again.

“You’re getting so heavy,” he complained, affectionately, as he carried the child into the bathroom. “You must have gained five pounds just hanging out with the Avengers, today.”

There wasn’t a response – not a verbal one, anyway – but Tony was a lot more comfortable with Parker, now, and was used to having one-sided conversations.

By the time he had Parker’s teeth brushed and had helped him get changed into a pair of Ironman pajamas, Peter was sitting on the sofa, finished with his phone call and smiling when his son came running over and launched himself into his father’s lap.

“Did _Tony_ pick those pajamas out?” he asked him. “Or did _you_?”

“I might have helped,” Stark admitted, coming over and sitting down beside Peter, getting a knee in the thigh when Parker sprawled along them so he was stretched out with his head and shoulders on Peter and the rest of him on Tony. “I noticed there was a new pair, so I wanted to see what he looked like in them.”

“May got them for him,” Peter said. “Last weekend.”

“I always said that woman had fine taste… What did Roger want? Is everything alright?”

Peter smiled and handed Parker the remote, silently telling his son that he could stay up and watch cartoons – for a _while_ , at least.

“Yes. Better than alright, even.”

“Oh? Has he approved the moon story, then?”

“He did that last weekend.”

Tony noticed that Peter’s eyes were excited, and he turned, slightly, making sure the younger man knew he had his full attention. As much as he could give him with a toddler in his lap and _Toy Story_ now playing on the TV.

“What is it, then?”

“Roger just heard from an executive at Disney…” Peter said. “They want to make a Jack and Snaps movie.”

“Really?”

Peter nodded.

“That’s what he said. They’re asking for options, and didn’t know how to get ahold of me, so they called his office and his messaging service transferred them to him.”

“What _kind_ of options?”

“They want to buy the rights to Jack and Snaps, outright – or get exclusive content control through a lease – or something like that.”

“You don’t want to sell it to them, outright,” Tony said. “If you _do_ , then you lose control of how they’re presented. Not to mention that would mean that anyone Disney chose could start writing Jack and Snaps stories. They would lose the quality they have, now, and it would tarnish your legacy.”

He was certain enough of Peter, now, that he knew the younger man loved the boy and the dog that he was writing about – even if they were only creations of his. Or maybe _because_ they were his creations.

“I don’t know about my legacy,” Peter said. “But I wouldn’t want anyone else to try to write them. At least not without my own input.”

“The other option is for you to make a deal with them. Allow them to use the images, the characters, and whatever else that would entail. In exchange, they pay you handsomely every quarter. Or annually. You can have it set up as a set amount of money, or you can go with a percentage of whatever they bring in.” The billionaire smiled, looking smug. “If the franchise set off, and the movie – and marketing – was successful, you’d be set for life and Parker, here, could buy his own island and become an aristocrat or something.”

The little boy turned at the sound of his name, but wasn’t really paying attention to the conversation.

“Roger’s going to give them my number,” Peter said. “He wanted to get my permission, first. They’ll call me to start preliminary discussions.”

“Do you have a business lawyer?”

“Not really.”

“I do,” Stark told him. “I’d like you to let at least one of my lawyers sit in on all discussions – just to make sure that you aren’t tricked into promising anything that you’re not willing to give up.”

“That’s kind of you,” Peter said, looking relieved. “Thanks. I accept.”

“Good.”

Peter smiled.

“It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?”

“It’s incredible, honey,” Tony agreed. He leaned over and brushed a kiss against Peter’s temple. “ _You’re_ amazing.”

They settled in to watch the movie, to allow Parker a chance to wind down, again, before Peter put him to bed. It gave Peter a chance to mull over the news that he’d received, too, and he couldn’t help but smile every time he thought about it. Not so much the financial side of it – although that was going to be a relief, really – but the fact that his creations might some day be as famously known as the Toy Story characters who were on the TV just then.

He leaned against Tony, slightly, and felt the older man put an arm around him, lightly. Nothing sexual, of course – not with a little kid sprawled in their laps – but for support, or maybe just to maintain contact with him. With his cheek resting against Tony’s shoulder, feeling the tight muscles under the thin fabric of the shirt that he was wearing, Peter tried to relax, but his mind was still racing when the movie ended and the credits rolled.

Since Parker had fallen asleep somewhere toward the end, Peter turned his head and kissed Tony’s shoulder, silently, and then carefully picked his son up as he got to his feet.

“I’m going to put him to bed and then go get ready for bed, too,” he whispered to Tony. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to write anything, tonight.”

“I can understand that. I’ll meet you in your bedroom.”

><<><><><>

By the time Peter had put Parker to bed (without even waking him, which was proof of just how much spending the day with the Avengers had worn him out) Tony was already in Peter’s. He was sitting up, supported by a couple of pillows, dressed in a simple t-shirt that Peter could see, and most likely a pair of lounge pants or sweats (that Peter couldn’t see because of the blankets on the bed. He looked up from the tablet that he was holding.

“Is he alright?”

Peter smiled, pleased that Tony liked Parker enough to ask about him. He nodded, walking over to the bed.

“He’s fine. Didn’t even wake up.”

“Come to bed, honey.”

Peter looked excited, still, Stark decided, but he also looked tired from his long day.

“I’ll be right back.”

The younger man vanished into the bathroom for a short time, returned smelling of mouthwash and toothpaste – even from across the room – and then stopped at his dresser. Tony watched with interest as Peter undressed and then changed into a pair of sweats before walking back to the bed.

“You’re so fucking beautiful…” Tony told him, pulling the blankets back so Peter could slide under them, beside him. “I’ve told you that, before, right?”

Peter smiled, cuddling against Tony’s hip and sliding an arm over him as well as he could since the other man was still sitting up.

“A couple of times…”

“And talented.”

Peter’s smile only grew.

“Turn off your tablet and pay attention to me, Tony.”

The billionaire complied, setting his tablet aside, and gathering Peter into his arms, properly, as he shifted into a more supine position.

“Did your publisher say when you might expect a phone call?” he asked, tucking Peter’s head under his chin.

“As early as tomorrow, was all he said.”

“I sent my law firm a heads up to be available as early as tomorrow morning,” he told his young lover. “Let me know what day you set your meeting for, and I’ll have them call you and get the logistics established.”

“I will.”

They were silent for a long moment, just enjoying the sensation of having the other with him. Peter was almost asleep when Tony spoke up, again, his hand sliding along his back, lightly.

“I’m so proud of you, honey.”

The young man made a noise of contentment, but didn’t answer, and Tony realized that he’d fallen asleep. He smiled, shifted enough to kiss his cheek, and then slid a hand down to cup Peter’s ass, casually. Then he went to sleep, too.


	31. 31

_“What are you doing with him?”_

Tony smiled, one arm easily around Parker, who was sitting in his lap, playing with his $400 tie while gnawing on a piece of apple.

“I’m babysitting.”

_“Why?”_

“Because that’s what boyfriends do, Agent Romanoff. His aunts and grandma weren’t available, this morning.”

Her expression was a cross between surprised and amused. Of course, it was the first time she’d heard him refer to himself as ‘boyfriend’ – ever – and in reference to Peter, specifically.

_“That’s so cute.”_

“Which part?”

_“Well, he’s cute, but it’s cute that you’re calling yourself the boyfriend…”_

“You don’t have anything important to be doing?”

_“Nope.”_ She smirked, amused that he was pretending to be annoyed with her. _“What about you?”_

“I’m doing it.” He smiled when Parker looked up at him, offering him a bite of his chewed on apple. Which he declined with a shake of his head before turning his attention back to the display. “Did you have a good weekend?”

Natasha Romanoff wasn’t fooled by the question and even in the video call, her expression made it clear that she knew what Tony was asking. She smiled, slightly, though, and shrugged.

_“It was different than my norm, that is certain.”_

“And you’re convinced that Peter Parker isn’t a plant of some kind?” Tony asked, leaning back in his office chair and reaching for his coffee. “Or a black ops spy?”

_“I’m convinced,”_ she assured him _. “But I still think he’s hiding something.”_

Stark rolled his eyes.

“He’s a children’s book author who writes porn on the side, Natasha. I’d say he’s definitely hiding something. Did you consider that?”

She hesitated, even in the video, and then she shrugged, again.

_“I suppose that could be it,”_ the assassin conceded. _“Parker’s a handsome little guy, isn’t he?”_

“Are you kidding? He’s the _cutest_.” He smiled, remembering how she looked holding the child. “Just like his dad.”

Romanoff shrugged.

_“Peter’s a little young for my tastes.”_

“He’s perfect for mine.”

Now she smiled.

_“I can tell.”_ Clearly the day spent with the two Parkers had relaxed her attitude about the concerns that she’d had about Peter. _“You two are almost sickening to watch, together.”_

Tony smirked.

“Right? He’s so wholesome.”

But, Jesus, he was amazing.

_“I heard about the Disney deal,”_ she said. “ _If that goes through, he has the chance to make a lot of money, doesn’t he? That should make you happy.”_

“How did you find out about that?” Tony asked, curiously. “He only found out Saturday night.”

_“I’m a spy, Tony,”_ she reminded him. “ _Relax. It’s what I do_.”

“Find someone else to spy on,” Stark said, frowning.

Romanoff shrugged.

_“I will. Now. Anything I need to know about?”_

“Regarding Peter and Parker? No. They both had a very good time with you guys, though, so thank you.”

_“You’re welcome. It wasn’t terrible for us, either,”_ she admitted. _“We might even not mind too much if they were invited out, again, some time.”_

“I’ll keep that in mind. Peter might want the distraction, really. If things go well, he could be very busy the next few months.”

The Disney people had called Sunday morning. Not their CEO or anything, but a person high enough up in the corporate ladder that even Tony was surprised. The young man had been on his couch next to Tony and they’d been playing with Parker, who was stacking simple blocks on the coffee table until they’d get so high that they’d tumble to the surface – and the floor – with a loud crash and a giggle of happiness.

It was a good way to spend a lazy Sunday morning.

With Tony listening, silently, the executive had explained who he was and what they were interested in – movie rights, maybe a TV series if the movie went well. They wanted the Jack and Snaps name and concept, outright, he’d said, but Peter had vetoed that, immediately. The young man had been polite, but explained that he had no desire to see the characters that he’d spent so much time creating turn into something he wouldn’t recognize in a year or two. The executive hadn’t even stumbled. He’d simply asked if Peter would be willing to meet him and some others, Monday morning – or whenever was convenient for him – and they could discuss alternatives.

“You can use one of the conference rooms in the tower,” Tony had offered.

It would work well to get their corporate attorneys to the meeting, and wouldn’t put Peter in the disadvantage that going to their building would have. Peter had accepted, and the meeting had been set up for 9 o’clock, sharp, Monday.

Angie had been contacted, and she was more than willing to watch Parker – of course – but had ended up calling Sunday night to apologize and explain that she was boarding a plane in an hour to go to Tennessee to help a sick friend. Peter had immediately assured her that it was fine, of course, and that he’d be able to get someone else – or just take Parker with him. Tony had happened to be there and had offered his services, much to Peter’s relief.

So here he was. Monday morning in his office. He was refreshed from a weekend of doing nothing more detrimental to his health than simply hanging out with Peter and Parker and spending time at the park, or on the couch at Peter’s place, and one short moment on the floor when he’d helped Parker find a missing block that had tumbled off the table and landed under the sofa. No raging parties (he hadn’t been to one in months, now) and no all-nighters working on his suits, or just up late brooding about whatever might be on his mind, just then. Peter might be a good influence on him, he decided.

_“You do that,”_ Romanoff said. She smiled when Parker stuck the end of the apple against Stark’s lips and the billionaire closed his mouth, tightly, to avoid allowing anything that drooled on to get in his mouth. _“I’ll let you go.”_

Tony lifted his head, so his lips were out of reach of that piece of apple.

“Thank you. If you guys need anything, let me know.”

_“Thanks. Have fun. Bye, Parker…”_

The call ended, then, and Tony smiled at the little boy looking up at him. He set his phone in his pocket.

“Your dad’s probably going to be busy for a while,” he told Parker. “Why don’t you come help me check the stats on my newest suit? That sounds pretty fun, right?”

Parker nodded, even though Stark was sure that he didn’t care one way or the other about Tony’s newest suit. It didn’t matter to either of them, though, and the little guy squealed in delight when Tony got up, taking him with him in the same motion, and heading for the door, apple slice still in hand.

><><><><>

Guided by Tony’s directions and a little help from a wandering security guard, Peter found the billionaire and Parker in Tony’s workroom. The magnetic lock on the door clicked and he walked in, smiling when he saw that Parker was playing with an Ironman helmet – one of the older ones – and was watching Tony, who was pressing some kind of tool against a metal glove.

“Busy?”

Stark shook his head, setting the tool down, immediately.

“Of course not. What did you learn?” He held his hand up, though, before Peter could answer. “Wait. Don’t tell me, yet. Let’s go find some lunch. Are you hungry, Parker?”

The little boy nodded, smiling at his father when Peter walked over to the table that he was sitting on. Setting the helmet down, the youngster offered his arms to Peter, who picked him up.

“Was he good?”

“Of course, he was.”

“Uh huh.” Peter kissed Parker’s cheek, making the boy giggle, and kiss him back, sloppily. “Thanks for watching him.”

“I’m going to charge you, next time,” Tony said, picking up the helmet and returning it to the display where he’d removed it from, in the first place.

“A lot?”

“Depends on what you found out…”

The younger man smiled at that.

“Fair enough.”

><><><><><>

They ended up earing in Tony’s office. Not because the billionaire didn’t feel like going out – sometimes he enjoyed the crowds and the accolades that followed him when he was out and about where he might be recognized. Truthfully, he thrived on that. But this time he wanted a quiet lunch with just Peter and Parker, and it was – of course – important that no one be able to overhear what the meeting might have launched until the two sides had made agreements and the final results were announced.

“So what did they say?” Tony asked, once Parker had chicken nuggets and a handful of French fries in front of him and the two men were unwrapping sandwiches from the tower’s deli. “Anything interesting?”

“Everything interesting,” Peter said. “They came with contracts. There were three of them – and their lawyers, and your lawyers were great. The Disney people want to sign on for the rights to a Jack and Snaps movie – with a provision to make it a trilogy if the first one does well. They want to have merchandizing, and if the first movie goes well, they want to look into an option for a cartoon, also.”

Tony raised an eyebrow.

“Wow.”

Peter’s smile was cautiously excited.

“I’m glad you offered to have the lawyers there, though. They’re amazing. They were squabbling about every little point on the contract the Disney people brought, and when the meeting was over, the Disney people’s lawyers said they would send the revised contracts back for them to look over before I sign them.”

“Are you going to have to write all of these scripts?” Tony asked.

“No.” Peter smiled. “But I get to have final say on them. And anything in the future.”

“That’s incredible, honey.”

“It really is,” Peter agreed. “I’m in shock, really.”

“We should celebrate.”

“Not until the contracts are signed.” The younger man smiled. “Angie wants Parker on Thursday. She’ll probably ask to keep him a couple of extra days.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” There was a sudden gleam in Peter’s expressive brown eyes. “What does your schedule look like toward the end of this week?”

“It’s wide open.” And if it wasn’t, he would make sure to do some rearranging so that it was. “What do you have in mind?”

“Whatever you want.”

Now Tony felt a pleasant shiver of anticipation.

“I could think of something.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” He took a big bite of his sandwich, suddenly very hungry – and in a very cheerful mood. “Maybe I’ll update _Secret Keepers_ , tonight.”

“Time to bring them back together.”

Tony approved.

“Yes.”

“Can I come over?”

Peter smiled.

“I was hoping you’d ask.”


	32. 32

“This is _not_ the wide open schedule that I was anticipating…”

Peter nodded, looking through his kitchen window into his back yard, where a large crowd of people were all sitting at hastily gathered card tables with folding chairs, the one picnic table that was normally there, and a few self supplied lawn chairs. A diverse crowd of people; Peter’s aunt and uncle, all of Parker’s aunts and uncle and grandma and grandpa, the children of those folk, and five Avengers – not counting Tony, who was in the kitchen, just then, with Peter.

“I know,” the younger man said. “I’m sorry.”

He had been looking forward to a quiet weekend, as well. Just him and Tony. A lot of time spent together and preferably with some of it naked, and sweaty. That had been the plan, right up until the contracts with the Disney people had been signed and the deal had immediately been announced by the company – not only to plant those earliest seeds of marketing to the public, but also to let any other company that was interested in the Jack and snaps franchise that any hope for them to cash in on the popular characters was now dashed.

Peter had been flooded with calls from family, all of them excited for him and eager to celebrate. The plans that had initially been made for the weekend were quickly scrapped, and an impromptu barbeque had been organized for Saturday at Peter’s place. Peter hadn’t been able to decline, really, and when he’d ruefully brought it up with Tony, the billionaire had reassured him that he wasn’t feeling neglected, and had then made sure that he, too, was invited to the barbeque.

Then he mentioned it to Natasha, who had pretty much been looking for an excuse to see _Parker_ , again, and she’d asked if she could come. When Peter had agreed, Clint had been next to call, asking for an invite – and Peter had told him that he was welcome, and so was his family, if they were so inclined to come over, as well. The archer had accepted, knowing he’d make some kind of dad of the year prize for introducing his kids to Peter, and Steve and Sam had both invited themselves to come along. If nothing else, Sam said, they could help set up tables.

Peter didn’t mind. A yard full of Avengers to entertain his family? Why not? His publisher was there, as well, of course, manning the barbeque while talking, animatedly, with Steve and Sam. It was turning into quite the party, really, and another glance out the window showed Natasha walking by with Parker in her arms, talking to Ben and Angie.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Tony told him, hugging him from behind and resting his chin on Peter’s shoulder and then turning his head to kiss his cheek. “I think this is great.”

The younger man smiled, putting his hands over Tony’s where they were pressed against his stomach.

“Angie is going to take Parker home with her,” he said. “We’ll have the rest of the weekend.”

“Good.” He kissed him, again, feeling every bit the proud boyfriend – even though they hadn’t, actually, made any official announcement of their relationship. For all he knew, Peter’s family didn’t even know he preferred men, so Tony tried to be circumspect about displays of affection when they were around. Even now, the kitchen was empty of anyone but them. “I want to play, tonight.”

He pressed his pelvis against Peter’s rear for just a moment and was rewarded with a shiver from the younger man.

“Jesus, Tony… that’s so hot.”

“Right?” Another kiss, this time to Peter’s ear. “Come on. Let’s go rescue your son from Natasha.”

“Good luck with that.”

Smiling, the two men headed out into the bright sunshine.

><><><><><>

Despite be such short notice, there was plenty to do that afternoon, and everyone had a good time. Of course, it was exciting for Peter’s family to meet and hang out with the Avengers, and Peter had a good time introducing them. They’d all met Tony, by then, but the rest were exciting and fun – especially to Parker’s cousins. The kids flocked around Tony, Steve, and Sam for the most part – although a couple of adolescent boys made it a point to stick near Natasha as much as possible. She took it in stride, dividing her attention between conversations with the adults and toting Parker around every opportunity she had to do so. The little boy didn’t complain, giggling every time she smiled at him.

Clint’s kids were far more interested in Peter than they were Steve, Sam, or the others, and once he’d know that they were coming, Peter had arranged a few bags with all kinds of Jack and Snaps swag in them. There wasn’t much – yet – but there was a new copy of each book of the series, signed by Peter, t-shirts and small figurines for them to take home.

“It won’t be long before there will be action figures, Legos, card games, video games, and who knows what else,” Tony pointed out.

Peter had looked a little surprised.

“Think so?”

“Of course. That’s how these things work. You’re new to it, but you’ll see.”

Tony was in a good mood. He’d had a relaxing afternoon with Peter (and a bunch of others, but not so many that it was annoying – especially since he knew everyone there), Peter’s Secret keeper story was going well; fictional Tony and Kyle had begun making a move to reconciliation, and the real Tony was looking forward to an evening alone with Peter.

The younger man nodded.

“It’s still a bit of a shock for me”

“If it starts to get overwhelming, just take a step back from it,” Tony said. Peter really didn’t have much to do, just then, when it came to the relationship between him and Disney. They still had to make a script for the movie, before he could read it and approve it or ask for changes, and the corporation was already getting their marketing people going with contracts with toy makers. None of that needed Peter’s input, just yet. “That will keep you from going crazy.”

“I’ll try.”

“Good.” Stark watched as the barbeque started breaking up, with people deciding that they’d better start heading home – especially those driving out to the compound. Luckily, they seemed to all be willing to help with the cleanup, even as they began gathering their children and their lawn chairs. “Shall we go help Angie pry Parker from Natasha?”

Peter chuckled at that, but he did follow Tony out to the grassy area, where his son was playing tag with some of the youngsters under the watchful eye of grandparents, parents, and one ninja assassin.

><><><>  
It took a little longer than anticipated to clear the company, clean the house and the back yard and for Peter to say goodbye to Parker. The little boy was cheerful enough about going to his grandmother’s and grandfather’s for the weekend, but Peter never enjoyed seeing him go. Even with the promise of a potentially exciting, hot, evening in store for him with Tony. He hugged his son, tightly, and told him to be good. Then Tony did the same, and they gathered some toys into a bag and waved as Angie carried the boy out to their car.

“Are you hungry?” Tony asked, when Peter closed the door, leaving the two of them alone.

“No. Not yet.”

“Are you _horny_?” the billionaire asked, smiling as he sidled up to his young lover and slid a hand along his hip.

Peter smiled, too, and turned his head to offer his lips to Tony, who kissed him, tenderly.

“We should wait a little while, though,” he replied. “In case someone forgot something and they come back for it.”

Tony rolled his eyes, but he had to admit that it made sense.

“Are you planning on writing, this weekend?”

“Maybe. It’s just going to be some kind of hot sex scene, I think. Tony and Kyle have made up, enough, I think, for them to be ready to restart that part of their relationship. Do you agree?”

“Do I agree that Tony should put Kyle on his belly and cover him like a blanket…?” Tony asked, taking Peter’s hand and walking him over to the sofa. “Yes. That and more.”

Peter settled beside Tony on the couch, leaning against him, easily. They spent a lot of time simply holding, or being held. It was pleasant for both of them, and wasn’t intimate enough that Peter had to worry about Parker being in the room with them. Usually the little boy was tucked between the two men – it was his favorite spot, after all.

“Like what?”

“No…” Tony slid his hand along the thigh of Peter’s jeans. “I’m not going to tell you and get all worked up when there isn’t anything I can do about it, just now.”

“That’s fair.”

“But I do want to talk to you about later.”

“Oh?”

“Are you comfortable with me?”

“Yes.”

“Are you convinced I’m not a cannibal?”

“Yes.” He smiled. “What are you getting at?”

“I want to try something new with you, tonight. For a little bit, anyway… if you’re willing.”

“What?”

“I want to secure you. Tie you up, I mean,” he clarified. “Only with cuffs, not ropes.”

“You want to try _bondage_?” Peter asked, making sure that he understood.

“I’m not going to _try_ it,” Tony said. “I’ve done it, before. But I was wondering what you thought of the idea. We’ll set up a safe word, just in case, and if you don’t like it, then we don’t have to try it again – and I’ll be perfectly happy to have you every other way, instead.”

“Oh.” He didn’t feel nervous at the thought – although he was a bit excited. It was something new, and something that appealed to him. As long as it was with Tony, who clearly knew what he was doing. “What does it entail?”

“We’ll go to my place,” the billionaire replied, still lightly caressing Peter’s thigh. “I’ll use padded manacles to secure your wrists to my headboard, to start, and then I’ll have my way with you. You’ll have to allow me to do whatever I want,” he added, appealing to Peter’s kink for being dominated. “If I want to suck you, then I can. For as long as I want. Or I can have you suck me. No hands. No stopping me from putting myself down your throat.”

That sounded exciting, and Peter shifted, slightly, feeling himself reacting to the imagery.

“How do I safe word out if I’m sucking you?”

Tony loved that he wasn’t afraid to ask.

“I’ll be watching you,” he said. “Your eyes will tell me if I need to pull out long enough to let you speak. That’s when you’ll get your chance to make me stop. What do you think?”

“It sounds amazing.”

“It is.” He leaned in and kissed him. “I’m going to make love to you, too, though. With your hands bound to the headboard, I’m going to pin you underneath me and drive myself into your tight body until you’re a puddle of goo.”

“Jesus… yes…”

“Like that?”

Peter’s smile was shaky, but only because Tony was working him up.

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you go pack some things?” Tony suggested. “That way we can go as soon as you think no one is coming back – and then we won’t need to return here until Sunday.”

“You need to move your hand…”

The older man’s hand had gone from Peter’s thigh to his lap while he’d been describing what he wanted to do with him – and to him. Now those talented fingers were tracing Peter’s erection through the denim of his jeans. Stark affected a surprised expression.

“How did _that_ happen?” he asked, innocently.

Peter noticed that he didn’t take his hand away, and his thumb found one of the younger man’s favorite and most sensitive spots – even through the fabric. He kissed Tony, but he didn’t move away from that touch.

“The sooner I get packed, the sooner we can go.”

The hand moved, away, after another gentle caress.

“Go get packed.”


	33. 33

“Well?” Tony asked. “How does it feel? Are you alright?”

“I think so…” Peter said, looking up at him from where he was now spread eagle on Tony’s bed. There was a soft comforter under him, but he was laying naked on it, and the older man had just finished securing Peter’s wrists to padded handcuffs – which had then been affixed to the railing on Stark’s headboard. His feet weren’t bound, but Tony had patted his inner thigh and told him to spread his legs, and Peter had done as he’d been told. “Does it look right?”

Tony smiled, looking at the naked young man in his bed and feeling a surge of more than just lust and eagerness when he did. Something soft, that made him ache inside – in a good way – even though he didn’t understand what, exactly, it was.

“It looks perfect.” He ran his fingertips along Peter’s abs. “What is your safe word, honey?”

“Firefly.”

“And you know that if it gets too intense, or uncomfortable, or scary, you just say that word and we’ll stop and discuss what’s going on, right?”

Peter nodded, flexing his wrists, a little, testing the bonds.

“Yes.”

Tony was pleased that he didn’t look afraid, or even nervous. Just expectant – and maybe a little excited. It meant a lot to the billionaire, because it meant that Peter trusted him enough to be as vulnerable as he could be with him.

“Good.” Tony was still dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, but he was sitting on the edge of his bed, admiring the view. “I’m going to play with you, first,” he said. “I’m just going to touch you, and taste you, and get you good and worked up and ready for me.”

“You’re not going to melt candles on me, are you?” Peter asked, curiously. “I saw that on PornHub.”

There was a snort of amusement, and Tony’s palm was resting, suddenly, on Peter’s belly.

“No, honey. No wax, no ice cubes, no feathers. This is your first time, and we’re not going to do anything too extreme. It’s just going to be you and me. Got it?”

“Yeah.”

He stood up and went over and turned the lights down, low, before going into the bathroom. He returned with an entire box of condoms and a tube of lube, which he set on the stand by the bed before taking his shirt off. Peter looked up at him, and Tony saw something in his expression that looked hesitant.

“What is it, baby?” he asked, worried that he was getting nervous.

The younger man shook his head.

“Nothing. It’s alright.”

“Peter… tell me, or we’re stopping. What we’re doing is one of those all in kind of things.”

“Do we _have_ to use the condoms?” he asked. “I mean, I know I’m clean, because you’re the only person that I’ve ever been with. If there’s a concern on your end, I understand, but…”

It wasn’t written in stone that the two of them were exclusive, after all, and Peter understood that. Which might be one of the reasons that the billionaire used condoms when they were together. Peter didn’t ask, because it wasn’t his business, and he didn’t think that it was something that he _should_ ask, since if Tony was sleeping with others, it wasn’t hurting their relationship because ignorance truly was bliss. But he’d written sex scenes so many times. Had written about Tony Stark erupting inside Kyle (and _others_ , in different stories) and he wanted to feel that sensation, if Tony was willing.

The older man understood what he was asking, and his smile was tender. He leaned over and opened the drawer to that night stand and tossed the condoms into it before closing it, again.

“You want to feel me cum inside you, Peter?” he asked, huskily, sliding his hand along Peter’s belly and then lower, brushing his fingertips along the younger man’s mostly flaccid penis.

“Yes.”

It was incredible just how sexy Tony was, even when he was simply speaking dirty talk to him.

“There’s no one but you,” Tony told him, leaning over and pressing a kiss against Peter’s jaw. “I don’t need anyone but you to satisfy me.” Another kiss, and Peter raised his chin, giving Tony access to his tender skin. They had already agreed that there shouldn’t be visible hickeys, so Tony didn’t suck a mark into Peter’s skin, but his tongue slid along his jawline to taste him, and to tease him. “But you’re all mine, Peter… I did warn you that I don’t like sharing, right?”

“Yes…” Peter’s heart was beginning to pick up its pace, now, as Tony fondled him, wonderfully, and blood was definitely rushing south as he began to harden. “I’m only yours.”

“Good answer…”

Peter didn’t have a chance to reply since Tony moved to kiss him. He automatically tried to brush his hand against the other man’s cheek but was brought up short by the manacle on that wrist. It was an abrupt reminder that he was at Tony’s mercy, just then – mostly – and it excited him. The billionaire chuckled, his lips stretching into a smile against Peter’s as he deepened the kiss for a moment, then pulled back enough to look at him, eyes dark with desire, but also holding just a spark of amusement.

“All mine…” he repeated. “To do with as I please.”

He kissed Peter, again; a gentle kiss to reassure, and then shifted to allow himself better access to what he was doing. Looming over the smaller man, he peppered a trail of soft, moist, kisses along Peter’s cheek, then his chin, and then his jaw. While he did, his hand never left Peter’s now erect cock, and he stroked him, wonderfully, never letting up, even as he moved his mouth to Peter’s neck, once more.

“Jesus, that feels good…” Peter murmured, closing his eyes and enjoying the sensation.

“I know it does, honey. I’m going to make you feel so good. You’re going to get us both very dirty by the time I’m done with you.”

Peter groaned when Tony’s mouth closed over his nipple, then, and he, again, caught himself trying to reach for the other man, held back by the other handcuff, this time. He was going to hold still and take what was being done to him. It was an incredible thought, and might have been frightening, if he’d been with someone else.

But not with Tony.

His handcuff clinked, again, when he reacted to Tony’s mouth going lower, tracing a moist path along his stomach and the older man’s coarse facial hair brushing against the rigid, throbbing, shaft of Peter’s cock. Tony chuckled, throatily, at the action – and the feeling of power that coursed through him at the reminder that Peter was his to command – and he nuzzled the base of Peter’s cock with tender lips and tongue.

“God…”

Stark turned his head, looking at Peter, who had lifted his head enough to be able to watch what he was doing.

“Let’s see if you can hit the ceiling…”

“I’m tied down…” Peter reminded him, slightly breathless. “How could I – oh.” He realized that Tony planned to make him climax, to test how high Peter could shoot his load. “Fuck, Tony… that’s so hot.”

“So are you, honey,” Tony replied.

Then he didn’t say anything as his mouth opened and he took Peter in.


	34. 34

“I’m disappointed in you…”

Peter rolled his eyes, but he didn’t even have the strength to shrug. He was exhausted and utterly and completely satiated – at least for the moment. It was incredibly hard to hold himself still and allow Tony to do what he’d been doing – even harder when the cuffs weren’t really capable of keeping him pinned as they would be for anyone else, so he was forcing himself to keep from snapping them off, completely.

It was just as exhausting mentally as it was physically. But it was just as incredible as he’d assumed it would be.

“Maybe your _ceiling_ is too high,” he said, watching as Tony finally reached for the button to his own jeans and open them so he could slide them off.

The other man’s cock was drooling precum and was practically twitching, Tony was so eager, now. He’d sucked Peter until he was just about to explode, and had then jerked him off, talking dirty to Peter as he stroked him, his hand sliding easily on that saliva moistened rod. Peter hadn’t lasted long, and with a grunt he’d climaxed, shooting a rope of cum several feet up, but not high enough to hit the ceiling. It _did_ splatter them, though, as did the next, and then another, until Tony had drained him to completion, his hand only stilling when _Peter_ did.

Tony hadn’t given up, though.

“Every scientist runs a test twice,” he’d told Peter, as he bent over that still twitching shaft, his fingers caressing it, gently. “Let’s give it another try.”

Peter hadn’t complained. He didn’t hit the ceiling on the _second_ attempt, either, though. Despite his best efforts. He hadn’t missed by much, however, and there was cum dripping down Tony’s bare chest and shoulders, now – which Peter found sexy as hell. His legs had already been slightly parted, of course, but he opened his knees, unaware that his eyes had suddenly darked in desire, and Tony groaned. He’d intended to go for another try – because it was arousing as fuck to have Peter under him, writhing in pleasure as he sucked him off and unable to do anything but take what he was doing.

Now, though, he wanted to further control him. Wanted to be inside him, thrusting into his tight body until _he_ climaxed, too. Especially without the condom. He was going to fill Peter so full that he’d be leaking cum for days, after. The visualization was enough to make him twitch and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to last. He nudged Peter’s long legs wider apart.

“Hold them open, baby,” he ordered, kicking his jeans off and reaching for the lube. Rough in his eagerness, he slathered his fingers and slid one into Peter, marveling as he always did that the younger man was always extremely tight – as if it were their first time, every time. Not that he was going to complain. He smiled at Peter’s moan of pleasure, and the way those hips arched against him. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

Tony leaned over and kissed him, adding another finger as he did, sliding his tongue into Peter’s mouth, while his fingers prepared him, quickly. He didn’t even break contact with Peter’s lips when he was ready. Instead he braced his weight on one arm, the hand just above Peter’s shoulder, while the other guided the head of his cock to Peter’s still tight hole, nudging it, but pausing just long enough to make sure his young lover knew what was coming before he forced himself, slowly but surely, into him.

Peter groaned, but before Tony could ask him if he had been too rough, those wonderfully long legs were wrapping around his hips and Peter was arching against his invasion. With that concern aside, Tony ground himself down, forcing his cock as deep as he could, before pulling back and slamming back home, again. He had to break the kiss in order to breathe, but he pressed his lips against Peter’s ear, shoving himself back in as he did.

“You’re so tight…” the billionaire whispered, hoarsely, breathless. “Taking me like you should be…”

“Fuck…”

The dirty talk was exciting Peter, as Tony knew that it would. He tucked his head, arms coming around Peter’s body, holding him tightly as he slammed into him, over and over, telling him he good he was. How tight he was. How exciting he was.

“I’m going to fuck you every day,” he gasped, feeling himself getting closer to his release. “Fuck you until you’re addicted to my cock. Until you beg me to have you the moment you see me. Bending yourself over the closest chair so I can slide my cock into you…”

Peter moaned his agreement, and Tony drove in, hard, climaxing almost violently, and for the first time in their relationship spilling himself into Peter. He held as still as his shuddering body would let him, savoring his release and catching his breath while he clung to Peter.

“Are you alright?” the younger man asked, softly, turning his head to brush a kiss against Tony’s temple.

“Yeah…” he caught his lips in a kiss that was more tender than any of its predecessors. “It felt good, is all. Did you enjoy it?”

“It was amazing.”

“Better without the condom?”

“Yes.” The body under him hitched a few times, experimentally. “It’s more intimate.”

“Yeah…” Tony reluctantly pulled out of his prize, but cuddled close to keep him warm. “How do you feel, honey? Sore?”

“My _wrists_ are,” Peter admitted. “And I’m pretty sure my penis is going to fall off, any minute.”

That earned a slightly tired chuckle, and the billionaire forced himself to sit up, still delightfully naked next to Peter. He frowned, though, when he unbuckled the first cuff, noticing that there was some injury to Peter’s wrist. It was red, swollen, and was already bruising. He quickly undid the other, noticing that the metal links had somehow become stretched out and warped a little, but ignoring that when he saw similar irritation on that wrist.

“Oh, honey… you’re _hurt_.”

Peter stretched arms and shoulders that ached a bit from being in the same position for so long.

“It’s fine,” he assured Tony. “They only hurt a little.”

“You should have said something.”

“I didn’t notice,” Peter told him, honestly. He smiled, if only to reassure that he wasn’t traumatized. “It felt too good.”

“I’ll go get you a couple of icepacks,” Tony said. “We’ll-“

“Stay with me,” Peter interrupted, bringing his arms around Tony’s sweaty body and pressing against him. “I want to be held.”

If there had actually been any bleeding, Tony wouldn’t have allowed himself to be swayed. As it was, however, he nodded, understanding that since it had been his first time being bound like that, Peter might need some reassurance and a lot of comforting. Tony was prepared to do both. He nodded, kissing the young man, again, and sliding his hand along his side for a moment.

“Let’s pull the blanket,” he suggested, getting out of bed with difficulty and taking Peter with him. Only long enough for them to strip the top layer of bedding, which had taken the brunt of their activities, and slide under the remaining blankets. The cool sheets felt wonderful against Tony’s heated skin. “That was so hot…”

“It was,” the young man agreed. “I liked it.”

“I did, too. Very much.” He pulled Peter’s head down to rest against his shoulder. “Catch your breath and we’ll see what we might come up with for an encore.”

The reply was a somewhat sleepy chuckle.


	35. 35

They slept in the next morning.

Without Parker in residence, there wasn’t any need to get out of bed any time in particular, and both men were drained. _Physically_ , anyway. Their evening before – and the early morning hours that it had run into – had been filled with sex. No more bondage, since Tony wanted Peter to be free to do whatever he wanted to do, as well, but plenty of excitement, anyway. After they’d rested and caught their breath, Peter had rolled over onto Tony, pinning him down with his much lighter body, and had murmured in his ear that he wanted to play with him, now.

Stark had shivered – and not because he was naked and Peter had pulled the blankets aside so he could see what he was doing – and had given the younger man the go ahead to do anything that he wanted.

“Warn me if you’re thinking about putting yourself inside me, though…” he’d requested, making Peter look down at him with surprise.

They’d discussed Peter topping Tony, but Peter didn’t think that Tony would especially like it. Unless he was giving the orders and telling Peter what to do. The idea appealed to _Peter_ , simply because he wanted to try everything, at least once, but he’d shaken his head, leaning over and kissing him as he’d straddled Tony’s hips, so intimately.

“I’m not going to…” he whispered into Tony’s. “I was thinking I could get you up, again, and ride you. What do you think?”

“I love that idea, honey.” Tony reached up, his big hands closing on Peter and pulling him down onto him, hugging him, close and he hitched his hips, a little, testing his ardor and knowing it was going to take a bit more than a little dirty talk to get him hard enough to slide himself into Peter’s ass, again. “Without the condom?”

“Yes. If you’re good with that?”

“Whatever you want…” he’d replied, putting his arms out as if his wrists were now the ones attached to the headboard. ‘I’m all yours.”

Peter had nodded, sitting upright, again, and had begun running his hands along Tony’s upper arms and chest.

“I like the sound of that…”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Tony smiled.

“Prove it, Peter,” he’d murmured. “Make me squirm and cry…”

He hadn’t _cried_ , but he’d definitely squirmed, and for the better part of an hour Peter had proven that he was a quick learner, rousing the billionaire to exquisite heights of lust, passion, and desire, and then – eventually – impaling himself on Tony’s now drooling cock and riding him like a jockey until both of them had climaxed, once more.

Then they’d clung to each other, whispering sweet nothings as they caught their breath and simply savored the company of the man they were with. Tony had fallen asleep, first, but Peter wasn’t far behind.

When Tony woke, he was warm, and comfortable, and so at peace that he almost didn’t even recognize the sensation. It wasn't one that he was familiar with, after all. But with Peter tucked up against his side, the younger man’s arms around him, holding him loosely, Tony felt as if he could face anything the world could throw at him. He ran a hand, lightly, along Peter’s hip, replaying their activities from the evening before and coming up with new ways to possibly make it even better for his young lover. Peter had enjoyed it, obviously, but Tony was creative – and a perfectionist – and he wanted to see Peter with that well-fucked, much-loved, and satiated expression on his face as often as possible.

He loved that expression. Loved making Peter happy – in bed and out, he knew. Cared about his happiness more than he could ever remember caring about anyone else. It was almost a shock when he realized it, and his hand still as he sleepily tried to understand what that meant.

“I love him…” he murmured, answering the question in his mind.

“Hmmm…?” Peter wasn’t as awake as Tony, clearly. He, too, was warm, and comfortable, and feeling the more than satisfying side-effects of their night together. He cuddled closer to the large, warm, body that he was laying next to and sighed, breathing deeply of Tony’s scent. His hand moved along the swell of the older man’s rear, and along the side of his thigh, not opening his eyes and just enjoying where he was, just then. “Did you say something…?”

“No, honey,” Stark said, uncertainly. That wasn’t something that he wanted to think about. He couldn’t love Peter. Love was for suckers, not for superheroes or billionaire playboys. That was for wholesome people – like Peter. He was simply enjoying the other man’s company so much that his mind was playing tricks on him. “Go back to sleep. It’s early, yet.”

For Tony, it was, anyway. He knew Peter and Parker would have been awake for an hour or two, by then.

“I should call and check on Parker…” Peter said, more awake, now. He rolled onto his back and stretched his lean frame, contentedly.

“He’s fine, or Angie would have called.”

“True.”

Tony hooked an arm around Peter and pulled him flush up against him, pressing his cheek against Peter’s.

“Why don’t we sleep a while longer, and then I’ll make you breakfast.”

“What are you going to make?”

“Eggs.”

“Why don’t I take you out to brunch, instead?” Peter countered, kissing Tony’s neck. “Then we can take a walk, or something. I want to get some exercise.”

“Need me to make you sweaty, again, honey?”

The younger man smiled.

“I’m sore. But I _do_ want to stretch my legs a bit.”

The mention of him being sore brought Tony more awake as he was reminded of the damage done to Peter’s wrists by the handcuffs, the night before. He pulled back, reaching for the hand that was resting on his bare hip, and brought it close to examine Peter’s wrist. It was a little red, but he didn’t see any of the bruises that he’d expected, judging the marks that he’d observed.

“FRIDAY? Turn on the lights.” The lights came on and Tony looked, again, but still didn’t see any bruises. Only red marks. He caught Peter’s other hand, rolling the young man onto his back, again. “I thought they’d look worse than this…”

“They only ache,” Peter said, carefully extracting his hand from Tony’s. “And not too much, really.”

“But they were pretty mangled, last night.”

Peter shrugged, burying his face in Tony’s chest.

“They’re okay. It probably looked worse because it was dark.”

“Huh…” Stark shrugged, too, kissing the top of Peter’s head and getting a mouthful of curls for his trouble. “I suppose. Let me know if they start bothering you.”

“I will.”

“Maybe I’ll go find some with better padding.”

“Yeah.” Peter leaned back so he could look up at him. “Are you going to shower with me?”

“Yes.” That thought drove all others from Tony’s mind, just then, and he rolled over on top of Peter, his leg nudging Peter’s apart to give him room between them – even though he wasn’t going to do more than play a little. Peter wasn’t the only one that was a little sore that morning, after all. “Someone has to wash your back, right?”

The young man smiled.

“Definitely.”

><><><><><>

The shower didn’t take too much longer than it might, normally, taken either to shower alone. There was a bit of extra caressing and many kisses shared as they washed each other, but they were both well satiated from their evening, before, and not as desperate as they might have been, otherwise.

“Do we walk?” Tony asked, as they were getting dressed, later. “There are plenty of good restaurants in the area.”

Peter shrugged.

“You’re the famous superhero,” he reminded the older man. “No one is going to recognize me, so it’s up to you.”

Which made Tony scowl. Being famous was fun, and he was honest enough to admit (to himself, anyway) that he liked how people running up to him, screaming and excited, stoked his ego, but it made it more difficult to eat, or enjoy a private moment. He wanted a nice, quiet, day with Peter, and that wasn’t going to happen if he was seen walking around outside his apartment building.

“I’ll drive us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm a bit distracted with finals, but that'll be over soon, and then I should be a bit less sporadic with my updates. Hope you're all still reading!


	36. 36

Lunch was in a little out of the way place. It was dimply lit, and just busy enough that the waitstaff didn’t have time to linger and chat with them – which Tony preferred, since it gave him more time to talk to Peter, instead. Not that the conversation was anything extraordinary, really, it wasn’t. They talked about the latest update on the fanfiction story that Peter was writing. Tony was pleased with it, since he felt that it had been Kyle who stepped up and brought the reconciliation between the two estranged lovers. And the heated scene Peter had written for their make up sex had been delicious. The story was wrapping up, and now Tony was interested in finding out what happened, next.

“What do you mean?” Peter asked, buttering a roll.

“Are they going to get married?”

“Tony isn’t really a marrying _type_ , is he?”

The question brought Tony up short. Mainly because it was a very good question.

“He _could_ be…” he said, finally, trying to be objective about what Peter was asking, and setting aside his own revelation from earlier that morning in his bed. Tony Stark was _not_ a marrying type. No matter that the person on the other side of that relationship was so amazing. But _he_ wasn’t the same Tony Stark that was in Peter’s story, now was he? _That_ Tony Stark could settle down. “With the right person…”

“And he wouldn’t shy away from being seen as robbing the cradle…?”

The older man smiled, also reaching for a roll. That answer he knew.

“Do you think he cares what anyone thinks about him?” he asked. “Anyone he doesn’t _know_ , that is. I’m sure he cares about _Kyle’s_ opinion – and maybe some of the Avengers, or Pepper. The rest of the world can piss off.”

“Huh.” Peter shrugged. “I suppose you’re right.”

“So?”

“So, what?”

Tony rolled his eyes.

“Are they going to settle down and get married?”

“I’ll have to think about it.” He smiled at Tony’s groan of anguish. “Maybe Kyle will find a new job in Switzerland.”

“You’re _killing_ me, Peter.”

The younger man chuckled, softly.

“Sorry.”

“I don’t believe you.” He pointed his roll at Peter. “Besides, Kyle can’t move to Switzerland.”

“Why not?”

“He has to help Tony with his new suit. And you don’t break off a relationship right when you get things back on track. Everyone who reads fanfiction knows that.”

“But sometimes I like to throw in a twist. Just to make things interesting.”

“That’s not the kind of twist people want to read.” Tony took a bite of his lunch. “They want to see your guys happy. Not separated and sad – or lonely.”

“You think so?”

“Yup. And, as you know, I am never wrong.”

That made Peter smile, too. Tony was clearly in a good mood, and Peter always enjoyed his company when he was being sassy – even though Tony refused to let him call it that. Something about superheroes not liking the term sassy, or something.

The conversation moved to other topics as they finished eating; Parker – of course – and the Avengers, and the new deal with Disney. It was a nice time, and Peter wasn’t in any hurry to end it, even when they were finished eating. Tony didn’t seem to be, either.

“Still want to go for that walk?” the billionaire asked as Peter took the check from him and reached for his wallet. “Or are you going to go home and vacuum?”

“A walk would be nice,” he replied. “Then you can come home with me.”

“To help with chores?”

“Among other things.”

The gleam in the younger man’s eyes made Tony twitch, just a little, and he smiled at how easily Peter made him react. Probably without even knowing – although maybe he _did_ , Tony decided. Peter was a little wiseass when he was in the mood, after all – which was another thing that Tony liked about him. _Loved_ about him? He forced his mind away from that particular thought – although it was a lot safer to think about it in a restaurant than it was when cuddled up next to his naked, warm, body in bed.

“I could probably be convinced,” Tony assured him.

“To help me with the chores?” Peter asked, as they walked out into the bright sunshine.

“No,” the billionaire said. “But the other things are definitely on my honey-do-me list.”

The younger man laughed.

“I’m on that list, right?”

“At the top.”

Tony was so caught up in the conversation, and the fun of teasing Peter – not to mention already planning what they might spend the rest of the day doing once they returned to Peter’s – that he didn’t notice that Peter had suddenly turned his head to the left as they both stepped off the curb in response to the light turning green and the little symbol telling them it was safe to walk.

“Tony!”

There was a sudden screech of tires, and Stark turned to look, his hand automatically raising to his chest to tap the housing unit for his suit. Just in time for Peter to reach one hand out to push him, ridiculously hard, back up onto the sidewalk. Tony tumbled into an ungainly heap, tripping over the curb, but wretched himself around as Peter crouched, looking for all the world like he was going to try and dodge the bus that was barreling down on him – or maybe jump over it? Instead, like it was in slow motion, it crashed right into him, unable to stop in time, and the front end crumbled, sending Peter flying where he landed in a lifeless heap in the street.

“Peter!” There was a crowd already starting to gather, but none of them were as quick as Tony. He straightened his glasses, even while moving to drop to the ground next to Peter and reaching for his neck to check for a pulse. There was no movement in the still form, and a bruise was already forming on Peter’s forehead. “Shit. FRIDAY, notify first-“

_“Already doing it,”_ she assured him.

The display in his glasses was confirming what his fingers were telling him. The bus had hit Peter square on, but he was _breathing_ , and there didn’t seem to be any life-threatening injuries. A crowd was gathering around, including the driver of the bus. Tony snapped his fingers at the man, who was already reaching for his phone – probably to call his supervisor. The man had a light jacket on, which was more than Tony had, but something that he needed.

“Give me your jacket,” he ordered, draping it over Peter when he complied. Then he ran his hand along Peter’s pale cheek. “Hang in there, honey. We’ll get you to a hospital.”

To his surprise, Peter opened his eyes at the touch, and he looked up at Tony, his expressive eyes filled with pain.

“Ow…”

“Shhh…” Tony murmured, already hearing sirens in the distance. “Lay still. You’re fine.”

“Yeah.” He closed his eyes, again – looking up into the bright sun made his head hurt more than it already did. “You okay?”

“Yes.” Tony took Peter’s hand, carefully not moving his arm, in case there was an unseen injury, there. “Thanks to you.”

Peter didn’t answer, though, and Tony realized that he’d passed out.


	37. 37

A pained noise drew Tony’s attention from the data pad that he was studying, and he turned to look at the figure in the bed he was sitting next to. Peter’s eyes were open, again, and he was looking up at the ceiling, confused.

“Hey…”

At the sound of Tony’s voice, the young man turned his head, and Stark frowned at the vivid bruising above Peter’s right eye that covered most of his forehead. He also had a lot of bruising around that eye, as well as in several other areas on his body, Tony knew.

“Hey…” Peter looked over Tony’s shoulder. “Where am I?”

“At the hospital. How do you feel?”

“Sore.”

“You got hit by a _bus_ ,” Tony told him – in case he didn’t remember. “The doctors are shocked that you’re even alive.”

_Tony_ was, too. He’d ridden in the ambulance to the hospital, watching the paramedics work on Peter, but they didn’t seem to have anywhere close to the sense of urgency that the billionaire felt that they should have. None of them were shouting orders at each other, or bandaging Peter, or doing anything, really. One had started an IV and the other was holding an icepack against his head, and they’d immobilized his upper body and neck. But that was all.

“He’s _stable_ , Mr. Stark,” one of them assured him, looking at the readouts on her machine. “Everything looks good, right now. We’ll have more tests run on him when we get to the hospital. How’s your head?”

Tony had bumped it when he’d been knocked down by Peter, but he hadn’t even noticed until one of them had offered him an icepack and a wet towel to wipe away the small trickle of blood on his cheek.

Peter wasn’t even _bleeding_ , as near as Tony could tell.

“What?” Peter frowned, confused. “Oh. I’m tougher than I look, I guess.”

The younger man sat up, wincing, and Tony tried to push him back down.

“Hey, don’t. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I’m okay…” Peter assured him, but he was definitely moving painfully. “What time is it?” He looked at the clock on the wall, and then at Tony. “Is it still Saturday?”

“Yes, honey.” The older man frowned. “What the hell’s going on, Peter?”

“What?”

“You just got hit by a _bus_.”

“I know.” He looked down at himself, and at the hospital gown that they’d dressed him in after the ER doctors had run a million tests – mainly because Tony insisted – and had pronounced him slightly concussed and put him into a bed to get some rest and so they could observe him. “Am I alright?”

“You seem to be, yes. The doctors want to observe you,” Tony said. “To make sure.”

There was suddenly an alarmed look in Peter’s expression.

“No. I’m fine. Really. I don’t need to stay here.”

“It’s alright, peter. They said simply overnight. You’d be out of here before Angie is supposed to be bringing Parker home.”

“No. Where are my clothes?” Peter was well and truly looking concerned, now, and it was a little alarming to the billionaire. He watched as the younger man tossed his blankets off, looking around. “I’m not – I don’t want to be here.”

“Hey.” Tony caught Peter’s shoulders, one in each hand, to hold him still and avoid letting him get to his feet and maybe hurting himself. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I don’t want to stay. I’m fine. Tell them I’m fine and make them give me back my clothes.” His brown eyes were wide and moist. “Please, Tony.”

“Let me get a doctor,” Stark said, unwilling to let him be upset. “We’ll have them look you over, really quick, and see what they say, now that you’re awake. Alright?”

“Yeah.”

He didn’t leave the room. He didn’t need to. Stark simply pressed the nurse’s station call buttoned, and when one answered, he mentioned that Peter was awake and requested that they have a doctor come to the room. Had it been someone else making the request – someone that wasn’t a billionaire, and wasn’t ironman – the nurses might have been less accommodating. Certainly the doctors wouldn’t have been so willing to be ordered around, even though it had been politely requested. It wasn’t someone else, though, and only a few minutes later, there was a soft knock on the door and two doctors entered the room – along with one of the nurses.

They all looked somewhat surprised to see Peter sitting up, legs swung over the side of the bed and looking alert.

“Mr. Parker…” one of the doctors said, walking over and immediately looking at the readouts on the monitors. “Awake, I see.”

“Yes.”

“How do you feel?”

“I’m fine.”

“How’s the head?” the other asked. “Scale of one to ten.”

“A six, maybe,” Peter admitted.

“That’s incredible.” The lead doctor ran a hand along the unbruised part of Peter’s forehead, and looked into his eyes, intently. Then she pulled out a pen light. “Follow the light for me.”

As Tony watched, the doctors ran several tests on his young lover. They checked his heart, his lungs, his reflexes, and kept looking at his eyes and even down his throat, once. Then they stepped back while the nurse pulled the IV from Peter’s forearm.

“How is he?” Tony asked, unable to stop himself.

“He looks fine,” came the reply. She looked baffled, but she shrugged. “The tests we ran on him when he came into the ER are clear. No fractures, nothing out of place, no internal bleeding that we can find. No concussion. I think you should stay overnight, though, for observation.”

“I don’t want to do that,” Peter said, quickly. He flushed. “I’m not really comfortable in hospitals…” he added.

“You really _should_ stay,” the other doctor said. “In case there’s something that we missed. It’s not likely, but it’s possible.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Tony offered. “And if something looks wrong, I can bring him back.”

Neither doctor looked convinced, but they all knew that if Peter wanted to leave, they couldn’t stop him from leaving.

“I’ll go write up the discharge papers,” one said. “But if he looks off, at all, I want him right back here. Understood?”

Stark nodded.

“Absolutely.”

“Go ahead and get dressed,” they told Peter. “We’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Thank you.” He watched them go and then turned to Tony. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” A plastic bag was suddenly handed to him, and when he looked, he saw that his clothes were in it. “Need help getting dressed?”

“No.” He got off the bed and winced at a stabbing ache in his left hip – which, he saw when he moved the gown aside, had a deep bruise discoloring the skin. “Maybe a little,” he amended.

Tony reached for the bag with a slight smile.

“I’ve dressed _Parker_ a few times, now. I can probably help you.”

><><><><><>

They didn’t go to Peter’s. _FRIDAY_ was at Tony’s after all, and that was one more way to keep an eye on Peter’s health. Just in case something really did happen.

“Do you want to stop anywhere?” he asked, double-checking that Peter had his seatbelt buckled.

They’d given him a prescription for pain killers but he hadn’t taken one, yet. Tony had been given a long list of instructions and things to watch for and would also make sure that FRIDAY was actively watching for any issues.

Peter shook his head, leaning, tiredly, into the leather seat.

“No. Thank you.” He closed his eyes. “But if you need to, I don’t mind.”

Tony had a pain killer prescription, as well, for the bump on his head. He’d filled it, along with Peter’s, before they left the hospital, but his head didn’t hurt, too much.

“No. I’m good.” He had a million things that he wanted to discuss with the younger man, but knew that this wasn’t the time to bring it up. Not when Peter was aching. Which meant that they needed to get him feeling better, as soon as possible, because Tony wasn’t very patient when there were things puzzling him.

And there definitely was.

><><><><><

Peter was half-asleep by the time they reached Tony apartment. He managed to rouse enough to make it inside, and assured Tony that he felt fine, he was just tired.

“Why don’t we skip dinner, for now, then,” the older man said, taking Peter’s hand and walking him over to his bedroom, and then to the bed. “I’m tired, and you’re tired. Let’s get you undressed and put you to bed.”

Peter sat, willingly, and nodded his agreement.

“You’re coming to bed, too?”

“Of course I am, honey.” Stark undressed Peter, and pulled the blankets back. “I need to take care of a couple of things, first.”

“Okay.”

Without any more conversation, Peter eased under the blankets and smiled, sleepily, when Tony leaned over and kissed him.

“Go to sleep. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He waited, though, to see if Peter needed anything, and watched him fall asleep, instead. Then he pressed a very gentle kiss against peter’s cheek, and left the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

“FRIDAY… pull up Peter’s test results,” he said, walking into the kitchen to put the prescription pills where he’d be able to find them if Peter woke with a headache that needed something more than aspirin. “I want to double check them.”

Not that he was a doctor – and made no such pretenses, really. But he had FRIDAY to help him interpret was he was looking at, and the AI had access to every medical journal, textbook, and even blog. If there was something that the doctors at the ER missed, FRIDAY would help Tony find it.

_“Do you want me to pull up his bloodwork, also?”_

“They took blood?”

_“It is a common practice in such situations, as a baseline, if nothing else, on the chance that Peter has any kind of reaction to a medication, or develops an infection.”_

“Yeah. Bring up his bloodwork, too,” Stark replied. “Why not? Run whatever tests there are, and make sure he’s healthy.”

_“Those will take a while.”_

“We’re not going anywhere.”

_“You should go to sleep,”_ his AI told him. _“I’ll notify you if anything raises a red flag.”_

“Yeah.” He was tired, too. And completely understood why Peter was. Hospitals and tests could be exhausting. “You know where to find me.”

He went back to his room and undressed in the dark rather than turn a light on and possibly wake Peter. Then he slid under the blankets and sidled up against Peter’s soft, perfect skin, sliding a hand gently along his side, and avoiding the areas with bruising. Peter made a contented noise, and his hand moved to cover Tony’s.

“It’s morning?” he asked, sleepily.

“Not even close,” Tony whispered, kissing Peter’s shoulder, and resting his forehead against the cool skin there. “Go to sleep.”

“You’re alright?”

“I’m fine. You saved my life, you know?”

“Mhmm-hmm… had to…”

He was falling asleep, again.

“Yeah? Why?”

“Because I love you.”

Tony felt his heart flip flop in his chest, and wondered if Peter would even remember saying it, in the morning. Jesus, he _hoped_ so. He kissed his shoulder, again.

“I love you, too, Peter. Go to sleep.”

The room went silent as Peter did what he was told, and Tony held him, possessively, but he fell asleep, too.


	38. 38

Sunlight was making a valiant effort to stream through the heavily shaded window in Tony’s bedroom when the billionaire woke, next. He groaned, feeling just a little sore, and ran his hand, automatically, along the bare skin that was pressed against his belly and chest.

The touch was intimate enough that he could actually _feel_ the moment Peter woke. His body went from relaxed to somewhat tense, and there was a soft, sleepy, noise before a hand came up to brush along Tony’s shoulder.

“Good morning…”

“Good morning. How do you feel?”

He’d slept all through the night, which was a good thing, Tony knew.

“Sleepy.”

“Sore?”

“A little, yes.”

Tony nodded, but couldn’t see Peter’s forehead very well in the dim light of the bedroom.

“Go back to sleep,” he suggested. “A little more sleep would do you good, I imagine.”

“Are you going to?”

Peter’s hand found its way to Tony’s ass.

“I have a few things to do, first,” he said. “But maybe after that. Go ahead and sleep a little longer, honey,” he crooned. “I’ll bring you breakfast in a while.”

“Breakfast in bed?” Peter asked, his fingers playing along the skin of Tony’s hip and the swelling of his rear. “How do I rate?”

“You saved my life, right?” Tony asked, kissing Peter’s ear. “That means I’m yours.”

There was a pleased note to the sound Peter made.

“Does that mean I can make you do anything I want to me?”

“I would have done anything you want, before,” Tony reminded him.

“Fuck…”

“That, too.”

Peter chuckled.

“I’m _tired_.”

Too tired to seduce him. Unfortunately.

“Go to sleep, Peter,” Tony murmured, sliding himself out of the younger man’s grip, and then off the bed, stopping only long enough to tuck the blankets back around him to keep him warm.

Then he found a pair of sweats and headed out of the bedroom and into the living room, breathing deeply of the smell of the coffee that FRIDAY started brewing.

“That smells amazing.”

_“I have some interesting results to the bloodwork that was done, yesterday,”_ FRIDAY told him without preamble. _“Do you want to see them, now? Or after your coffee?”_

“How interesting?”

_“Incredibly so.”_

“Now, then.”

><>><><><><><>

Peter was dressed when he walked out of Tony’s bedroom a couple of hours later. Tony was sitting at the kitchen island, a tablet on the counter but a display also on, next to it. He looked over when Peter joined him, frowning, slightly, at the bruise on the younger man’s forehead. It made him ache to see Peter look so battered. Especially knowing that Peter had hurt himself saving him from serious injury – if not worse.

“You look like you got beat up,” Peter said, coming behind him and wrapping his arms around the older man for a moment, pressing his cheek against Tony’s back. He loved the feel of that soft skin and the powerful muscles underneath. “Does it hurt?”

_Tony_ had a bruise, too. His was much darker than Peter’s, which was already tinged with yellow, as if it were several days old.

“It’s fine.” Stark turned his head, pressing a kiss against Peter, but his expression was troubled as he moved out of Peter’s embrace and picked up his tablet. “We need to talk.”

“About what?”

“What _are_ you?”

Peter frowned.

“What?”

“What are you, Peter?” he repeated.

“I don’t know what you mean…”

“The doctors in the emergency room took blood, yesterday. Your blood. They were just looking for a baseline, FRIDAY says. In case you developed a reaction to any medication, or an infection.”

“Oh.”

He noticed Peter looked uncertain – and uneasy, now.

“FRIDAY ran a few tests, too. And found that you’re not human. She said you were some kind of mutant, or something.”

“I’m not a mutant.”

“What are you, then?” he countered, holding up the tablet. “Because I’m not seeing a human in these results.”

“Why did you have FRIDAY run tests on me?” Peter asked, raising an eyebrow. “You didn’t think that might be a little invasive?”

“Answer the question,” Tony replied. “What the hell, Peter?”

The younger man hesitated.

“I can’t… It’s complicated.”

“Oh, I have _time_ ,” Tony told him. “And I’m not stupid, so you probably won’t even need to use little words.”

“I’m _human_ ,” Peter said, and Tony felt himself ache inside at how scared the younger man looked, suddenly. And how he was trembling. “I mean. I was born human. And I still am. But I’m… I’m more, now.”

“How?”

Peter took a deep breath.

“When I was fourteen my class went to a science lab.”

“And you fell into a vat of radioactive goo?”

The sarcasm wasn’t appreciated, and Tony regretted saying it, immediately. He could see that Peter was afraid, and making it worse wasn’t helping, now was it? Peter scowled, anger flashing in those expressive brown eyes that Tony loved so much.

“Don’t be an ass, Tony.”

“I’m sorry. Tell me what happened.”

“It wasn’t _goo_ ,” Peter said, softly. “It was a _spider_. I don’t know what kind, but it wasn’t a normal spider – and there _must_ have been some kind of radiation involved, because I got really sick. For a few days. And then I got better. And started being able to do things…”

“Like what?”

“Things. I’m stronger… and quicker, and when I get hurt – which doesn’t happen often – I heal quickly.”

“Which explains how you survived getting hit by the bus…”

“Yeah.”

“Romanoff was right.”

“About what?”

“She was sure you were hiding something. I was equally sure that you wouldn’t feel the need to hide anything from me.” Tony felt annoyance rising up inside him, accompanied by hurt, and it only made him angry. “Jesus, Peter. Why didn’t you _tell_ me?”

“Why _would_ I?”

“It’s not something you hide from someone you’re sleeping with,” Tony snapped. “Fuck. I thought you trusted me.”

“I _do_.”

“Who knows?”

“No one.”

“May?”

“No.”

“Ben?”

“No. No one knows, Tony. Not May, or Ben, or Angie… no one.”

“You should have told me.”

“It’s not something I want people to know.”

“I’m not _people_.” He was upset enough that he ignored the fact that May and Ben weren’t in on the secret so Peter didn’t have any real reason to tell _Tony_ , either. “I’m your boyfriend.”

“I’m sorry.”

Stark scowled.

“So, you’re basically Kyle, then? Is that it? What the fuck, Peter? Writing about how the guy could do all those things, and how he kept it hidden from everyone in your little AU. All the while hiding those same abilities from _me_? It probably made you chuckle, making me look like an idiot…”

“No, Tony. It wasn’t like that. I didn’t know you when I started that story, remember? I was writing it because –“

“It doesn’t matter why you wrote it,” Tony interrupted. “You should have told me. We talked a million times about how the Tony Stark in your story would have reacted. You could-“

“Could have _what_?” Peter asked, and now _he_ was angry, too. Tony was overreacting – just like Peter had known he would. “Told you all about how I changed a tire on my car, once, by lifting the end up with one hand and holding it up while I put the new tire on? Told you how I can climb up walls? Or how I know when someone is sneaking up on me? Or something is going to happen? You wouldn’t have believed me.”

“You don’t know-“

“It’s not something I tell people, Tony,” Peter said. “No one knows.”

“You could be an _Avenger_ ,” Stark pointed out. “With abilities like that… With powers… with _great_ powers come great _responsibilities_ , Peter. You-“

“I _have_ responsibilities. To _Parker_.”

“But-“

Peter was over the fear, now, and well into angry. Angry at Tony for snooping where he shouldn’t have been. Angry at him for trying to tell him what he should be doing. He knew what he should be doing, after all. He had his shit together, didn’t he? And it hadn’t taken anywhere near as long to figure it out as it had taken Anthony Edward Stark.

“And don’t _even_ talk to me about responsibilities and using my powers for good. You have no room to talk about being responsible. Everyone knows what you were like. The showboating. The megalomania. You were using those powers you had for good, were you?”

The billionaire scowled.

“That was a cheap shot, Peter. Fuck you.”

It _had_ been a cheap shot, but Peter was angry, too. And afraid – although the anger was overwhelming that anxiety, just then.

“Go to hell, Tony.”

He spun on his heel and turned, heading into the living room and walking over to the couch. Tony was still trying to think of a comeback – something better than ‘fuck you’ when he realized Peter was sliding his feet into his shoes and reaching for his keys, which had been dropped on the coffee table when they’d arrived home the evening before.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m _leaving_.”

“No. You need to stay here. We need to talk this through.”

“I already know what you’re going to say,” Peter said, and now he was picking up his cell phone and putting that into his pocket, as well. “I’m dishonest for hiding this from you, and I’ve been lying to you then entire time, and-“

“You _have_ been lying,” Tony pointed out, interrupting. “Just like Kyle in your story.”

“Right. Because you asked me straight up if I was super strong. Or if I could stick to walls. So of course I’ve lied to you.”

“You should have-“

“ _Whatever_.”

It wasn’t much of a comeback, but Peter was out of them, for the moment. His normally agile mind was still trying to get a wrap on the fact that his secret was out. Or was going to be out, anyway, once Tony let others know what he could do. All he could think of, just then, was that he needed to get away. Needed to figure out what he was going to do. How he could protect Parker from whatever upheaval this was going to cause.

“Hey. Don’t even _think_ of walking out that door. We’re-“

He never had a chance to finish the sentence. Peter Parker wasn’t his to command, and he proved it quite nicely, at that moment, walking out and slamming the door behind him with a finality that made Tony flinch.

_“That didn’t go well,”_ FRIDAY commented, helpfully.

Tony scowled, still looking at the door.

“No. not so much.”


	39. 39

“What happened to your head?”

Peter forced a smile as he took Parker from Angie, hugging his son and feeling better than he had all day.

“I just hit a door. Nothing serious.” Now he _was_ lying, he thought, unable to miss the irony. “Was he good?”

She nodded, handing him the little boy’s bag.

“A perfect angel.”

Peter’s smile was a little more genuine, then, and he looked his son over, exaggerating just how carefully he was doing it.

“Are you _sure_ you brought me _my_ son?” he asked, hugging Parker so the boy would know he was teasing. “Because I’m not so sure, now.”

Parker didn’t quite understand the humor, but he didn’t _need_ to. He hugged Peter as the two adults exchanged a few pleasantries, and then waved goodbye to his grandmother when she left.

“Did you have a good time?” Peter asked his son, dropping the bag and carrying the boy to the couch.

Parker nodded, happily, and then pointed at Peter, clearly asking if _he_ had, too, and Peter settled into the couch, Parker still in his arms, only now he was on his lap.

“I did.” He couldn’t help that his tone wasn’t as cheerful as his words. “I _missed_ you.”

When Parker hugged him again, Peter held him close for a long moment, feeling the sting of tears, which he brushed away, impatiently, before his son could see them. He’d had a rough last day and a half, but Parker didn’t need to know that – and _wouldn’t_ know it, if Peter had his way. He’d left Tony’s, hailing a cab – and it had been a long, silent ride back to his house. He’d ended up pacing the floor for almost an hour, unsettled and unable to think. Only the fear of what would happen if he actually _had_ a panic attack kept him from having one, crazily enough.

It was still early, but he didn’t have any plans since he’d left his schedule open to spend the weekend with Tony. Which wasn’t going to happen, now, obviously. The billionaire hadn’t tried to call him, and hadn’t sent him any texts. Peter supposed that he shouldn’t be too surprised by that, but it was still painful for him.

Not so painful that he was going to reach out, though. He didn’t know what to say, and if he _did_ , he didn’t know how Tony would react to it, anyway. What could he do? Ask him not to tell anyone? Tony Stark did whatever Tony Stark _wanted_ to do. Peter knew that. If he wanted to tell someone – or _everyone_ – what he now knew about Peter, there wasn't anything Peter could do to stop it.

It wouldn’t be _that_ bad, Peter had supposed. Being able to climb walls – or having super strength – wasn’t against the _law_ , or anything, and it wasn’t like he’d been out using those abilities to rob banks. The information wouldn’t affect his contract with Disney, either. Those were signed, and there weren’t any clauses that said anything about Peter’s personal life. Only that he had to make himself available to any of those writers that the company assigned to creating the screenplays when the time came. It wasn’t the end of the world, and Parker was young enough that he wouldn’t chafe under Peter being a bit over-protective to keep any publicity from affecting the youngster.

He didn’t even want to think about what Angie or that side of the family would say, though – and May and Ben would almost certainly be furious that Peter had hidden the abilities from them. Or _hurt_ , he thought, and that would be even worse.

Which might be how _Tony_ was feeling? A little voice in his head suggested. He brushed that thought aside as well as he could, reminding himself that a fleeting fling with someone didn’t give them the right to know _everything_ about them – and didn’t mean he should be using his AI to invade his privacy.

He’d ended up spending the rest of that first day on the couch, brooding, and had dozed off sometime in the early evening, his head aching a little and his mind still worried enough that he managed to have bad dreams.

The next morning hadn’t seemed any better, despite the beautiful day that was forecast. He made coffee and then toast and eggs, starving due to missing meals the day before, and needing some calories to back up the way his metabolism was working overtime to heal his injuries. The bruise was still there, but not so horrible-looking as it had been.

When he was done eating, he cleaned the kitchen. Then, still restless and worried, he cleaned the _rest_ of the house and did all the laundry. A call from Angie reminding him that she was going to be there around three o’clock found him folding the last load of laundry. Sheets. Folding the fitted sheet – crumpling it into a wad and putting it in the drawer – made him smile, sadly, since it reminded him of watching Tony try to do the same. But he was done with everything, and waiting, impatiently by the time the anticipated knock came on the door and his son came home.

A very welcomed distraction from that which had him so worried and upset.

“I was thinking you and I might take a trip…” Peter told his son as they lounged together on the sofa. Parker turned his head, looking up at him, a question in those brown eyes that were so similar to Peter’s own. He smiled, brushing his fingers along his forehead. “The people at Disney have already said we can go to any of their properties for as long as we want,” he said. “It’s one of the perks of my contract with them. We get special passes, too, so we don’t even have to wait in lines for rides.”

The boy’s eyes widened, suddenly excited, and Peter smiled.

“Interested?”

Parker nodded, and Peter was surprised that his head didn’t fly off then and there, and he hugged him, tight.

“Then I’ll make the arrangements and we’ll get away for a while.”

><><><><><>

It didn’t take much, really. Parker was little and didn’t have school, or anything, to work around as far as a schedule. Peter made his own schedule, so getting away wasn’t a problem for him. He called May, and Angie, the night before after he’d decided to go, to advise them that he and Parker would be leaving the next morning to go to Florida for a few days – maybe a week – but it didn’t surprise any of them, really. The contract with Disney was something to celebrate, after all, and why not celebrate with a trip to the magical kingdom with Parker?

“Is _Tony_ going?” May asked, and Peter was glad that he’d called instead of being face to face with her.

She’d raised him, after all, and knew him best. He wouldn’t have been able to hide the ache that the question raised inside him.

“No. He’s a busy guy, right?”

He hadn’t heard anything from Tony in four days, now, and it felt like a lifetime. He shouldn’t have been too surprised – and he supposed that he wasn’t. Tony Stark _was_ a busy guy. Avenger and businessman. And he didn’t belong to Peter. The young man was a bit surprised that he hadn’t heard anything about his abilities being announced to the general public. Of course, he wasn’t _famous_ , or anything, so maybe the public didn’t _care_. Or maybe it wouldn’t _be_ announced to the public. Tony had mentioned that Peter should be an _Avenger_. Maybe the billionaire was going to tell them? He didn’t know. And he didn’t really want to be around when it happened.

Parker had tapped his chest a few times the last couple of days, looking at his father, questioningly, and Peter knew the little boy was wondering where Tony was, too. He’d simply hugged his son and said that Tony was busy doing _Ironman_ things, and had found something else to distract him.

May must have heard something in his tone, because she asked him if he was alright, and hadn’t sounded completely convinced when he’d said that he was. He assured her that he’d take a lot of pictures and send them her way while they were gone. Then he’d ended the call and set the phone aside with a soft sigh. He had to finish packing, and he needed to get his mail delivery put on hold, but that wouldn’t take long. More importantly, he had intended to finish the _Secret Keeper_ story before he left, feeling a little guilty that he’d allowed his own personal upheaval to delay the final chapter that he knew everyone was so looking forward to reading.

Peter reached for his laptop and settled in, feeling his eyes sting as he wrote the happy ending for Kyle with Tony that he knew wasn't in the cards for himself. It didn’t take long; the happy endings were the easiest to write, after all, and Peter edited it, and then posted it, and still had plenty of time to do everything else that he needed to do before they left for the airport in the morning.

Then he went to bed.


	40. 40

Peter had never actually taken Parker on any kind of lengthy trip, and it showed. But with a little guidance from Angie, he packed for the two of them and was told to put Parker’s clothes into the same large suitcase that he used for his own – to cut down on how much baggage there would be. He had also been told (although this one he already knew) that an active youngster like Parker would need something to do on the plane. So he put together a backpack for him and filled it with some action figures (Ironman, Captain America, and a cowboy Barbie that Parker had stolen from a cousin and had been allowed to keep), a coloring book, and a tablet that was filled with cartoons for him to watch. There were also several small snack packs of treats, healthy and otherwise, to keep him from fussing.

Peter’s backpack had his laptop and tablet, a sketch pad, and some pencils, but nothing more. If he wanted something to munch on, he assumed that he could raid Parker’s stash, after all – or get something on the plane. Even with all of that in mind, there was a lot to carry – and he had to keep Parker close, which meant one hand needed to be free to hold his hand, or to carry him – whichever was appropriate at the time.

Luckily, with the contracts signed and a first installment in the bank, he decided to go all out (for him) and he’d splurged on the flight and had bought business class seats for them, which was smart, he decided, when they reached the airport – and their terminal.

Not only did they get called to board sooner, but there were less people seated around them to be annoyed if Parker started acting up (and Peter honestly had no clue how he’d do on the plane and was expecting the worst and hoping for the best). A helpful steward took his backpack and stored it overhead. Parker’s went into the seat beside him since there was plenty of room for both. Peter gave him the window seat – more to keep him in place than because he thought Parker would like the view – and the little boy buckled his own seatbelt, but squirmed, trying to look at everything going on around him all at once.

It was all new, after all, and the little boy was excited.

“Your son is adorable,” the woman sitting across the aisle from Peter said, smiling at the little boy, who waved, excitedly, at her, when he realized she was talking about him.

“Thank you.” He gave her a slightly apologetic smile. “It’s his first time on a plane. I’m hoping he isn’t a screamer.”

She smiled.

“So am I.”

><><><><>

It turned out that he _wasn’t_.

Parker had looked just a little panicked when the engines of the airplane rumbled around them and they began moving, and he craned his head to look out the window when they’d taken off. However, once the flight was leveled, the steward and stewardess in charge of the business class area were quick to come around offering drinks and snacks – especially to the little boy who was already charming them with his big brown eyes and cheerful disposition. With a juice box, and a bag of pretzels, Parker settled, nicely, cuddling against Peter’s side and watching a cartoon with earphones in to keep the rest of the people on the plane from being forced to listen in.

Peter chatted for a while with the woman across the aisle – who was a doctor on her way to a conference in Orlando – and also happened to be the mother of twins Parker’s age, and had been almost excited to find out who Peter was. The discussion ended up turning from transplanting livers to Jack and Snaps and the Disney deal and possible movie plots for the upcoming feature. Peter had been forced to admit that he didn’t know anything, _yet_ , and reminded her that even if he _did_ , he wouldn’t be able to spoil too much of it.

It didn’t stop her from making a few suggestions and asking for a selfie with him – which Peter was wiling to do, of course. Then he covered his son with a blanket to make sure he was warm enough in the slightly chilled cabin, and started another cartoon for him.

The doctor had to finish up some notes for a forum that she was going to be part of at her conference, and while Peter normally would have slept through the flight, he didn’t want to doze off while Parker was awake. Instead, he double-checked that the movie was keeping the boy occupied, and kissed him on the top of his head before pulling out his tablet and thumbing through some of the reviews for his final chapter of _Secret Keepers_. It was getting many reviews. The last chapters always did, of course – negative and positive, but mostly positive. Everyone loved a happy ending, after all. Most everyone, anyways. He did look to see if Tony had written anything, but wasn’t really surprised when he didn’t see anything.

There was a lot of silence coming from Stark Tower and the man that owned it, after all.

The story was painful to read, really, and Peter set his tablet aside, feeling an ache inside at the reminder that he wasn’t Kyle – despite the way Tony had angrily pointed out that he had so much in common with the fictional young man. He got up long enough to pull his sketch pad from the backpack and then settled next to Parker, once more, with his pad now propped on his thighs. He made several quick sketches of Jack and Snaps in a few different positions, but found himself distracted and feeling melancholy. He shook his head, mentally chiding himself. He was going to Disney, after all, and was going to be spending time in the happiest place on earth with the person that he loved most in the world.

He was going to do a better job of being cheerful, if it killed him.

When his cartoon finished, Parker was ready to cuddle. Either he was feeling a little sleepy, or he was catching Peter’s sorrowful mood – despite the young man’s best efforts to hide it – the little boy unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed from his seat into Peter’s lap, wanting to be cuddled for a while, and Peter put his pad aside and simply helped Parker settle in his lap, cheek resting against his chest.

“Hey, buddy…”

“Hi.”

Peter’s eyes widened, and he looked down at the boy in his lap, but Parker wasn’t looking at him. His cheek went to Peter’s shoulder, and his nose was pressed against his father’s neck, which was his favorite spot. It also made it easier for him to watch the people that were sitting around them, better.

“Parker?”

Now the little boy looked up at him, curiously. And he smiled.

“Hi.”

Peter smiled, too, and he ran his palm against the little cheek.

“HI.” He felt a surge of cheer at the sound of the first words that he’d ever heard the boy say. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow…” He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know if he was supposed to acknowledge the words, or act as if there was nothing different. Didn’t know if he was supposed to laugh, or cry, but he felt like jumping to his feet and running up and down the aisle screaming in happiness and excitement. Of course, that would almost certainly not go over very well, now would it? Instead, he forced himself to act cool, and calm. Like having a two-sided conversation with Parker was the most normal thing in the world. “I love you.”

“Daddy…”


	41. 41

Parker put his head back down on Peter’s shoulder, and relaxed, again, while Peter simply held him and tried not to cry. The boy had spoken – finally – the last thing he needed was to make it into something traumatizing by crying like a baby and maybe inhibiting Parker from trying it again, sometime. Instead, he caressed his son’s back, lightly, and Parker eventually dozed off in his arms.

Peter stayed awake, of course, wanting to be available if Parker woke and needed him, but when the steward stopped and asked if he was ready for lunch, he simply shook his head and gestured with his hand to Parker, much preferring to skip a meal and not disturb the sleeping child.

By the time the five hour flight was done, and the plane had landed, Parker was wide awake and excited – although he didn’t speak up, again – and they were both starving. Peter said his goodbyes to the doctor across the aisle, put his backpack on, helped Parker into his and then carried the boy to the baggage area, more than capable of holding him all day without growing tired or sore.

“We’ll get checked into our hotel room,” he told Parker. “Then we’ll get something to eat.”

Late lunch, or early dinner. One of the two, but something simple, most likely.

The boy nodded, and then pointed when he saw the bag Peter had packed coming along the conveyor belt. It was easy to spot, since Angie had suggested wrapping a bright red ribbon around it to make it easier to see in just this situation. With his bag in one hand, and Parker in the other arm, they headed for the exit and Peter was surprised to see a neatly dressed man in a dark suit holding a sign with his name on it.

He walked up.

“I’m Peter Parker.”

The man smiled, nodding politely and stashing the sign.

“The car is out front. May I take your bag, sir?”

“The hotel sent you?” Peter asked, handing over the suitcase more than willingly.

It wasn’t heavy, but it was bulky.

“Yes, sir. Please, follow me.”

Parker looked up at his father, who looked down at him.

“Does he look like a cannibal?”

“No.”

Again that perfect word, as if it were the most normal thing in the world to have him respond, verbally.

“Do you even know what a cannibal _is_?”

Parker grinned, reacting to the love in Peter’s expression – and his voice. And maybe he was just happy to be talking?

“No.”

“Well, let’s hope you don’t find out, today.”

They followed the driver to a long, gleaming, black, limo that was illegally parked out in front of the terminal. With the luggage in one hand, he opened the closest back door with the other, smiling, politely. Peter thanked him and put Parker into the back of the car and then followed his son. He was pleased to see that there was a booster seat for the boy, and he took Parker’s backpack before buckling him into it while the driver put the bag in the trunk and then got behind the wheel.

“We’re going to be met by bellhops at the hotel, Mr. Parker,” he said. “But is there anywhere you want to stop before we go there?”

“No. Thank you.”

“It’ll be about twenty minutes. Please feel free to help yourself to snacks, or any of the entertainment, and press the call button if you need anything.”

The driver raised the privacy screen, and the car pulled out of the parking area, heading almost immediately onto a freeway.

“Do you want a snack?” Peter asked his son, noticing an ornate bowl that was filled with candy bars, fruit, and chips of all kinds.

There was also a mini fridge with a glass door, proudly displaying bottled water, sodas and even milk. To the side was a neatly displayed shelf of miniature booze bottles.

Parker nodded, but he didn’t say anything – much to Peter’s disappointment. He simply pointed to the bag of fruit snacks that he wanted, and then to a bottle of Sprite in the fridge. Peter settled the boy with his treat, and then leaned back into the leather of the seat and pulled out his cell. He snapped a picture of Parker in the car seat and sent it off to May and to Angie so they would know what they were doing, just then, and then started checking emails, reviews and any missed messages from while they were on the plane.

><><><><>

The driver was right about how long it would take. Parker never had a chance to become restless or bored, and Peter was just finishing up the last reply to an email – and a text conversation with May about the limo, and Parker speaking to him – when they pulled off the street that they’d been on, and drove under an archway that welcomed them to Disneyworld. The hotel was iconic, and Peter smiled when he watched Parker’s eyes widen in excitement as they drew closer, and then stopped in a causeway.

It was late afternoon, by then, but the sun was still up and shining brightly, giving the two a chance to look at the property as Peter got out of the car and then helped Parker out, handing him the backpack. The driver brought the luggage over, but rather than give it to Peter, he handed it off to a nattily dressed young man who came hurrying over to take it.

“Enjoy your stay, Mr. Parker,” the driver said, taking the tip that Peter offered him with a smile of thanks.

“Thank you.”

“We already have you checked in, sir,” the new arrival said. “Do we need a highchair for Parker if you opt to eat in your room?”

“Just a booster seat if you have one,” Peter replied, feeling just a little awed at the incredible service. First class wasn’t something he was really used to – aside from the times that he and Tony would go out, of course. The reminder of the billionaire and what they’d had and then lost made him ache a little, but he felt Parker reach for his hand, and he smiled down at his son, forcing cheer. “He’s a big guy, right?”

Parker smiled and nodded, and the two followed the man into the hotel.

><><><><>>

The room was nice. It was actually a suite. There was a main living room area with a Disney theme, of course. A couch, a couple of overstuffed chairs and a small dining/writing table, as well as a corner that was filled with toys – clearly with Parker’s entertainment in mind. There was a large TV on the wall and the bellhop explained that there were plenty of movies to stream. Not surprisingly, considering where they were. There were two rooms off of the main one. Both bedrooms, with a shared bathroom. The bed in the room Parker was going to be sleeping in was a toddler-sized bed, so Peter didn’t have to worry about his son rolling out of bed in the middle of the night and hurting himself.

Clearly, the Disney people were used to having little kids at their hotel.

The bellhop pointed to a packet of information on the coffee table – next to a huge basket of snacks and swag – and then accepted a tip from Peter before letting himself out, closing the door behind him.

“Pretty swanky, huh, buddy?” Peter asked, sitting on the sofa.

He was a little tired, and it was still early. 

Parker nodded, still looking around, excitedly. He wandered the room while Peter watched, making sure that there wasn’t anything left out that might hurt the little boy – or allow him to hurt himself with it. It was a place designed specifically for children, yes, but that didn’t mean the hotel rooms were child-proof. It didn’t appear to be a problem, however. Parker found several other stashes of snacks and treats. He also found a bag of Disney swag; Legos, dolls, cars, and even a sweatshirt – and all of it was clearly for him, since the Micky Mouse ears had the boy’s name embroidered on the front of them.

Parker put them on and admired himself in a mirror.

“Are you hungry?” Peter asked, smiling at just how happy his son looked, just then.

Parker nodded, walking over, and leaning himself on Peter’s knee. He didn’t say anything – although Peter privately hoped that he would. If nothing else, the more he spoke, the more natural it would become for him after so long not doing it. Besides, he didn’t even know what kind of vocabulary Parker had.

Peter picked him up, kissing his cheek. Despite the excitement in the little guy’s eyes, he knew he was going to be tired from the traveling. Even with the nap that he’d taken.

“Let’s eat in our room, today, and turn in early,” he said, poking Parker’s belly and eliciting a happy giggle. “Then we’ll be fresh in the morning so we can go do rides and look around.”

He knew how to phrase things to get the boy to agree with him, and it was proven when Parker nodded, again, leaning into Peter’s chest, the mouse ears slightly askew, now.

“Do you want chicken nuggets?”

There was no sense in trying to get him to eat anything fancier, just then, and when Parker nodded, he reached for the phone, following the instructions on the small card beside it to order room service for himself (A burger and onion rings) and Parker (nuggets, apple slices and fries), then he leaned back into the sofa, again, with Parker still in his lap.

He had just closed his eyes, contentedly, when he was startled by a knock on the door. Parker sat up, too, and rolled off Peter’s lap, knowing that he’d need to be able to get up. Peter got to his feet.

“That’s pretty fast,” he told the boy.

“Yeah.”

Parker followed his father to the door, but hung back out of the way when Peter opened it. The young man stared, though, when he saw that it wasn’t room service at the door.

It was Tony Stark.


	42. 42

“Tony…”

There was an excited gasp behind Peter.

_“Tony!”_

Before the billionaire could say or do anything, Parker had thrown himself at the man, arms going around his leg, and was looking up at him, grinning happily.

Stark looked almost as surprised as Peter was looking – and for a completely different reason. His pre-planned speech went out the window.

“Did he just say my name?” he asked, picking Parker up and holding him with one arm, but looking at Peter.

God, he was so handsome. He felt a pang in his chest that would have left him breathless if not for other distractions, just then.

Peter smiled, despite his surprise. Tony looked so good, and he missed him so much.

“Yes. Crazy, isn’t it?”

“It’s _amazing_.” Tony said, genuinely pleased. “Since when?”

“It just started.” The younger man touched Parker’s back. “He called me _daddy_.”

“That’s great.” He smiled at the little boy. “Hey, Parker.”

Parker grinned, but simply tucked his cheek against Tony’s shoulder, more than willing to cuddle, and clearly pleased to be held by Tony.

“We’re still working on it,” Peter said. He hesitated, uncertain, his eyes on Tony rather than Parker, just then. “What are you doing here?”

“FRIDAY told me you were going to be here, so I waited until they had you booked, and then reserved the suite, next door.”

“Why?”

Now it was Tony who hesitated. He looked down at Parker, uncertainly, but had to have his say.

“I wanted to see you. I wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t want this to be like your story,” Stark told him.

“What?”

“You said that there has to be angst…” Tony shrugged, his expression uncertain, but resolute. “I don’t want that between us. I want the kissing and making up, but I don’t want prolonged emptiness and angst before it happens. I’ve had too much, already – and it’s only been days.”

“Oh.” Normally articulate, Peter was actually at a loss for words. The appearance of Tony at his door was already surprising, but then the assertion that he’d just made? He didn’t exactly apologize, really, but Tony didn’t have anything to apologize for. Peter didn’t feel that _he_ did, either, of course. “I don’t want that, either.”

“Can I come in?” the billionaire asked, pointedly.

Peter nodded, moving aside, so Tony could carry Parker into the suite’s living room.

“We just ordered something to eat. Are you hungry?”

“A little. I had brunch on the jet on the way down here and nothing since.”

“The _Avenger’s_ jet?” Peter asked, watching as Tony looked around and then seated himself on the sofa, Parker shifting in his embrace long enough to get more comfortable, but clearly not willing to give up Ironman, just yet.

“No. One of Stark Industry’s corporate jets. No long lines, no lousy food.”

“Nice.”

Tony nodded.

“It is. You can come home with me, if you want.”

“We’re going to be here for at least a few days,” Peter said. “When are you going home?”

“As long as the Avengers don’t call me, I was hoping that if everything went well between you and I, I might stay and keep you company.”

Peter raised an eyebrow.

“You want to do Disney with us?”

“Yes.”

He hadn’t missed the emphasis on the pronoun, and knew Peter was reminding him that it wasn’t going to be adults, only. Parker was definitely a consideration.

Tony had spent a day being angry and hurt about the revelation that Peter was something other than what Tony thought he was. He’d been prepared to spend even _longer_ , but FRIDAY had sent an alert advising that an update to the _Secret Keeper_ story was posted, and Tony had been in a masochistic mood and had pulled it up and read it. The _final_ update, he realized. A happy ending for Kyle and Tony Stark, and so amazing. And bittersweet, given the schism between the real Tony Stark and Peter Parker.

The next days were filled with moodiness as Tony read and reread the Secret Keepers story – especially the ending – over and over and brooding over his options. He wanted a happy ending. Okay, maybe not _marriage_ – he hadn’t been lying to Peter when he’d stated that the real Tony Stark wasn’t the marrying kind. But did that mean that he couldn’t be _happy_? He’d already admitted (to himself) that he loved Peter. He even ( _maybe_ ) loved _Parker_. Was he going to let his own ego get in the way of keeping something special going? He was pretty good at that, usually, and had never really had a reason to break that particular cycle of self destruction.

Peter was a good reason, though, and as he read, and reread Secret Keepers the next couple of days, he decided that, no, he didn’t want to lose the relationship that he had with Peter. Or with his son, really. With that realization came the uncertainty of how to approach Peter about things.

He’d been trying to think of the best approach when FRIDAY had mentioned that Peter had reserved airfare and hotel reservations to Disneyland leaving the morning after the next. Stark didn’t, officially, have FRIDAY monitoring Peter’s activities; that was the AI taking the initiative. Tony didn’t mind, though. It was an opportunity. Like he told Peter, he’d simply waited until Peter’s suite was verified and then asked the AI to secure him the rooms, next door. A far more comfortable flight than the one Peter had endured – even in business class – and he’d been met at the airport by a representative from the chain and whisked to the hotel. With a reminder to the rep that he wouldn’t appreciate it if his presence were revealed to the general public, he settled in and waited until the time was right to go talk to Peter.

And now here he was. Parker in his lap, cuddling and making Tony feel warm and gooey even though he was still uncertain of Peter.

“Pepper’s good with you being gone?”

He didn’t sound against the idea of Tony spending time with them, the billionaire decided.

“She’s annoyed, but yes. I told her it was important. Which it is.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry I jumped you, Peter,” Stark said, sincerely “I shouldn’t have been angry. You saved my life.”

Peter nodded.

“I’m sorry, too, Tony. I _do_ trust you. But my abilities aren’t something that I –“

“You don’t have to explain it to me,” Tony told him, interrupting. He looked down at Parker, who was suddenly restless – or bored with the conversation, and over the excitement of seeing Tony, again. The boy climbed off his lap and wandered over to the corner of the room, where there was a child-sized table filled with Disney themed activity books and toys. “You have every right to have your secrets, Peter, and… I was wrong for being such a dick about it.”

Peter’s expression lost the uncertainty that had been in them since he’d opened the door to find Tony on the other side.

“I thought Tony Stark didn’t apologize…” he said, his slight smile taking any sting out of the words.

Tony shrugged.

“Don’t spread it around, alright? I still have a reputation to uphold.”

Before Peter could reply there was a knock on the door and Parker gasped, excitedly, and ran to the door, looking over at his father. Peter rolled his eyes and stood up.

“That’s going to be dinner.”

He walked over to the door, a hand on Parker’s shoulder to keep the boy out of the way so he didn’t get hit by the heavy wood when it swung open. It was their dinner, being delivered by a floor waiter, who was pushing a gleaming metal cart.

“Room service, Mr. Parker.”

“Thank you.”

The man was efficient and unloaded their meal onto the small table, being as unintrusive as possible as he did so, and then accepted a tip from Peter before telling him goodnight and closing the door behind him as he took his cart and left. He either didn’t notice Tony, or didn’t recognize him for who he was, because he never looked twice at the sofa, where the billionaire was seated.

“Ready to eat, buddy?” Peter asked, taking lids off the silver plated dishes.

Parker nodded, scrambling into the booster seat that had been provided for him and reaching for a nugget before he was even settled in the chair. Peter rolled his eyes at such greediness and smiled at Tony, who walked over to see what they were eating.

“I’m willing to share,” the younger man told him. “I could cut my burger in half.”

“I accept.” Stark smiled when Parker offered up a chicken nugget, as well, and he hesitated only for a moment before he took it from the boy, forcing himself to not turn green since it was the one Parker had already started gnawing on. “Thank you.”

“Not _that_ one,” Peter told his son, taking the nugget from Tony and handing it back to Parker. “That one is already drooled on. Guests should get a new one.”

Parker grinned, accepting the reprimand and taking a different one from his plate.

“Thank you,” Tony said, again.

“Welcome.”

The boy turned his attention to his dinner, eating hungrily, and not noticing the way Peter’s expression softened when he looked down at him. _Stark_ saw it, though, and he brushed his hand against Peter’s, briefly, before popping the chicken nugget into his mouth – mainly to be polite, but so relieved that Peter had swapped it out for another.

“Hand me the knife, honey…”

They still needed to talk, of course, but the rest of the conversation would be better finished later, after Parker had been put to bed. Peter must have been thinking the same thing, because he handed Tony the knife, and the plate with the burger – although he did take a fry from it before handing it over.

“We’re not planning anything too exciting, tonight,” Peter told him. “We thought we’d hang out, here, and watch a movie, or something, and call it an early night so we can be up and ready to go when the park opens, in the morning.”

Parker looked up, excited, and Tony smiled, cutting the burger into two and taking half before he handed the plate back to Peter.

“That sounds like a good plan.” He looked at Peter, once Parker’s attention went back to his dinner. “Can I stay and watch the movie with you guys?”

“Parker? Are you okay with Tony staying?”

The little boy smiled, and nodded, and Stark couldn’t help but feel cheerful. Nothing like being accepted by a three year old, after all, to make you feel good about yourself.

“Great.”

“Sit down, Tony,” Peter offered, gesturing to a chair. “Stay a while.”

“I don’t mind if I do.”


	43. 43

They ended up ordering more food once the first burger was gone, and Parker was done eating. One cheeseburger – no matter how big – wasn’t enough to feed two hungry men. They ordered another cheeseburger and a large plate of fries, and potato salad. While they waited for that, Peter took Parker into the little boy’s bedroom and changed him into pajamas and slippers. That way he’d be ready for bed, and if (when?) he fell asleep during the movie, or movies, then it would be a simple matter to put him to bed.

Parker came out of the room, first, face and hands washed and looking happy. Especially when he found Tony on the sofa, settled in with his shoes off and his sock-clad feet on the coffee table. The boy climbed onto the couch, draping himself carelessly over Tony’s lap, looking up at him, his brown eyes cheerful. Tony smiled down at him, poking the little boy in the belly, which made Parker giggle.

“Are we going to watch a cartoon?” he asked the child.

Parker shrugged, reaching for Tony’s hand and poking himself with the billionaire’s finger, again – and giggling, again. And then again when Tony complied to the not so subtle request and tickled him.

Jesus, he’d missed the little guy, and it hadn’t even been _that_ long.

Peter walked over, now, holding a blanket that he’d pulled from the bed in his room. The younger man smiled down at the scene, watching as Tony Stark played tickle with his little boy.

“If he pees himself, it’s your fault,” he said, making both of them look up at him. “And you have to give him a bath.”

Tony smiled.

“He won’t pee on me, will you, Parker?”

Parker shook his head.

“Sit up, buddy,” Peter said. “Let’s get comfortable.”

He couldn’t drape a blanket over Tony if Parker was sprawled on him, after all. The boy did as he was told, cuddling himself against Tony’s side and patting the space next to him in invitation. An invitation that Peter accepted. He settled in the spot, and brought the blanket across their laps. Leaning over to tuck it around Tony.

The older man brushed his fingertips against Peter’s arm, wondering if he was willing to allow a little cuddling of his own during the movie. He didn’t want to assume, but couldn’t figure out a way to ask with Parker sitting next to him.

“We still have food coming,” he reminded Peter.

“I know. You’re the one he’s snuggled with. When it comes, I’ll get it and bring it over.”

Even as he was saying it, there was another knock on the door and Peter went to get it. A few minutes later, the three of them were comfortable ensconced on the sofa, the two men working their way through the new cheeseburger and the shared plate of fries and potato salad, while Parker gnawed on a French fry, but was now fully engrossed in the cartoon they were watching.

“I missed this,” Tony said, looking over at Peter. “And you guys.”

Peter nodded.

“So did I.”

He didn’t say anything else, though, and turned his attention to finishing his meal, and then setting the dish on the coffee table, out of the way. Tony followed suit, and then leaned back, pulling the blanket up a little, even though he wasn’t cold. Parker waited until he was comfortable, and then resumed leaning against his side, now that he was finished eating. The little boy never took his eyes off the display, though, and Tony smiled, putting an arm around him, warmly.

A moment later, Peter leaned a little against Tony, too. His shoulder met Tony’s – well above where Parker’s head stopped – and the billionaire glanced over at the younger man, his hand seeking Peter’s under the blanket. Almost shyly, Peter took it, and tucked it against his side, and sighed, softly, as he, too, relaxed and turned his attention to the movie.

><><><><><>

BY the time the movie was over, Tony was the only one still awake.

Parker had dozed off almost immediately, and Peter hadn’t been far behind him. The billionaire frowned, uncertainly, when the credits began rolling on the large TV display, wondering if he should slip out and leave the two to their rest. He was just right next door, after all, and could always talk to Peter the next morning, or something. Tony wanted the air cleared between him and the younger man, and he knew that despite the fact that Peter was leaning against him, sleeping, they weren’t in the same place that they had been, before, and that was what he wanted. The sooner the better. Tony Stark didn’t handle uncertainty well, after all.

He looked down at Parker, who was now sprawled across his lap, upside down and with his foot digging into Peter’s stomach. The billionaire had no idea how anyone could possibly sleep that way, but he smiled because he must have been comfortable. As carefully as he could, he started to extract himself from the human dogpile, and Peter woke, despite his best efforts.

Probably a dad thing, or something.

“It’s over?” he asked, sleepily, automatically looking for Parker.

“Yeah. I’m sorry I woke you.”

“It’s fine.” The younger man stretched, straightening up and moving Parker’s foot from his belly. “I’m going to put him to bed.” He hesitated. “Are you going to stay?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be back in a minute.”

Peter picked his son up, carefully, and cuddled him. Tony watched, feeling just a little stab of jealousy – or maybe envy? He wanted Peter to croon to him when he was sleepy, like the young man did when Parker roused, a little, at the transfer of position. He wanted to feel Peter’s hand rubbing _his_ back, gently, reassuring him that everything was fine.

He ached as he watched Peter vanish into the smaller bedroom, and restlessly got up, turning off the TV and then picking up the blanket and folding it for lack of anything better to do.

When Peter came out of the room, quietly closing Parker’s door behind him, he was surprised to see that Tony was gathering up their dishes from dinner, putting them on the tray, neatly.

“Get the door,” the older man requested, once he noticed Peter had joined him.

Peter watched as Tony set their dishes on the small table in the hall, just outside their door. Then he came back into the room, closing it behind him and locking it with a soft click.

“I could have taken care of that, later,” Peter told him.

“It gave me something to do,” Tony said. “While I was trying to think of what to say to you.”

“Oh.” The young man walked over, sitting on the arm of the sofa, but watching him. “What did you come up with?”

Stark moved to stand in front of him, looking down at him.

“I was a jerk.”

“Yes.”

“You had every right to be upset with me for allowing FRIDAY to run those tests.”

“I know.”

Peter wasn’t making it easy for him, but Tony hadn’t expected him to – and he didn’t deserve an easy out.

“I was _curious_. It’s who I am, Peter. I see something off, and I have to know what’s going on. It’s like someone telling you that you shouldn’t touch something, and what do you want to do more than anything?”

“Touch it.”

“Right. Something wonky was going on with you, and I needed to figure it out.”

“Now you know.”

“Yeah.” He reached out and brushed his fingertips along Peter’s cheek. “I know that you’re even more amazing than I thought you were. More incredible. Definitely too good for me.”

“ _Probably_.” Peter’s ears had turned pink at the praise, though. “You promised me the last time that you wouldn’t be a dick in the heat of the moment, again.”

“I know. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” Tony hesitated. “ _You_ were kind of a dick, too, though,” he pointed out. “And pretty heartless.”

“You called me a _mutant_.”

“You called me irresponsible.”

“You were.”

“You _are_.” Peter frowned, and Tony smiled, apologetically. “ _Technically_.”

Peter smiled, too.

“Don’t ever call me that, again.”

“I won’t.” He looked into those beautiful brown eyes. “I’m _sorry_ , honey.”

Peter leaned forward, allowing his forehead to rest against Tony’s sternum.

“I love you, Tony.”

Stark put his arms around him, feeling the sting of tears, and his voice cracked when he tried to speak, making him clear his throat before he tried again.

“I love you, too, Peter.”

They were silent for a long moment, simply being together, and then Peter lifted his head, looking up at Tony.

“You’re right next door?”

“Yes.” The older man ran his fingers through Peter’s curls. “You’re not sending me away, though, are you?”

“We can’t do anything too serious.”

“I don’t expect you to hop into my bed with me, Peter,” Tony said. Not only because he'd been such a prick to the younger man, but because Parker was in the next room and they didn’t have a way to monitor him to make sure he didn’t interrupt them in a compromising position. “But I missed you. I missed being with you. We don’t have to do anything but be together.”

“Why don’t you go change into something more comfortable?” Peter suggested.

The other man was in jeans and a polo, and that was fine for a day at the park – or even at Disney – but not an evening on the couch.

Tony nodded, kissed him, lightly, before he could lose his nerve, and then let himself out of the room. Peter watched him go, and then went to check on his son, before going to change into something more comfortable, too.


	44. 44

“I’m not riding any rollercoasters.”

Peter looked at Tony, surprised.

“You don’t like rollercoasters?”

“No. Not riding them. They’re pretty interesting from an engineering standpoint, though.”

“You’re _Ironman_ ,” the younger man pointed out – unnecessarily. “You fly all the time and do loop de loops and barrel rolls.” He knew; he’d seen multiple videos. “Tell me you don’t get airsick, or motion sick…”

“Of course, I don’t get airsick. What kind of superhero would I be if I had to clean up vomit all the time?”

“Then why won’t you ride rollercoasters?”

“Just because I don’t get sick, it doesn’t mean that _other people_ don’t get sick. Knowing my luck, we’ll be minding our own business, and someone on a completely other car – somewhere _above_ me – will puke their guts out in a twist that they shouldn’t have tried, after eating a huge breakfast of something gross, and I’ll end up wearing it, or worse.”

“Oh.” Peter smiled. “That’s a valid concern.”

“Right? No rollercoasters.”

“That wasn’t really an issue,” he said. He gestured to Parker, who was just finishing his breakfast at the table. “I did a little research when we decided to come down here, and he isn’t big enough to go on anything even remotely similar to a rollercoaster. There are several rides that we’re going to check out in the next couple of days, but none will have people above you possibly throwing up.”

“Good.”

“And plenty of other things to look at, of course.”

The place was huge, after all, and there were several areas that would appeal to even a little guy like Parker. He smiled, looking at Tony, again, so happy that he was actually there with them. So relieved that they weren’t Kyle and Tony from his story.

They’d fallen asleep on the couch the night before, cuddled together under a blanket, but not doing more than holding hands. It had been _Parker_ who woke them, climbing onto the sofa and flopping down onto them with little regard for boundaries or where his elbows and knees were landing. Tony had stifled a curse, and wrapped his arms around that tiny body, freeing himself of his blankets and tickling him, while Parker giggled, happily.

Peter thought the sound of his son laughing was the best thing to ever wake up to, but it was followed closely by having Tony beside him, looking so cheerful and handsome and just a bit sleep-rumpled. He shook his head, smiling over at the older man, and then catching Parker when the boy threw himself into his arms, escaping Tony.

“Good morning, buddy,” he said, hugging him, tightly, and placing a wet, noisy kiss on his cheek. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah.”

Peter looked at Tony, smiling, and relieved that the talking thing didn’t seem to be a one and done experience.

“How did _you_ sleep?”

“Never better,” the billionaire said. “I _love_ sleeping on the couch, mostly upright.”

“So do I.”

Tony’s smile was warm.

“The company was good, though.”

Which made Peter blush, and his smile widen.

“That it was. What are you doing, today?”

“Whatever you guys are.” He hesitated, realizing that he was assuming when he shouldn’t be. “If that’s alright with you?”

“Parker? Can Tony hang out with us, this week?”

The little boy nodded, cheerfully, but there wasn’t a verbal reply. Peter decided that Parker was used to being non-verbal and it might be easier for him. He didn’t push, however, because they had plenty of time to work on getting him to talk more – now that he was speaking, at all. Tony beamed, looking almost as pleased as Parker did.

“Have you already planned it all out” the billionaire asked. “How long are you going to be here?”

“It depends on _Parker_ ,” Peter replied, getting up and stretching out the minor kinks that come with sleeping in an odd position. He reached down and scooped his son up into his arms, cheered at the way he giggled. “If he’s having fun, we’ll stay the full week. If it looks like he’s bored – or something comes up – we’ll leave early. How long are _you_ going to be here?”

“I was thinking you could fly home with me. I could use a vacation, after all, and this would be nice.”

Peter felt a different kind of happiness bubble up inside him at that thought.

“A week with Ironman?” he asked, pretending to think about it. “How do we rate?”

“A week with _Tony Stark_ for you,” Tony corrected, also standing. “A week with Ironman for _Parker_ – although I’m going to be incognito out in public so we don’t get overrun by fans.”

“You know he doesn’t know what _incognito_ means.”

“He might,” Tony had disagreed. He smiled, feeling more cheerful than he had in days. Definitely since his argument with Peter. He reached over and plucked the child from Peter’s arms, and now he was addressing Parker. “Why don’t you go get some clothes on, and I’ll do the same, and we’ll meet back here and have breakfast before we go find Mickey Mouse. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Both men had smiled at the response, and Tony set Parker down.

“I’m going to go change.”

“I’ll order breakfast.”

He waited until he was alone and then called room service and ordered a hearty meal for the three of them. Then he sent May and Angie both a text telling them about parker speaking to him – and the surprise appearance of Tony, who was going to hang out – but he reminded them not to post anything on their social media about that part, since he was looking forward to having Tony just to themselves, and didn’t want that ruined by someone getting wind that he was in Disney.

Neither woman had replied by the time Parker came out, his shirt on backward and inside out, but looking cheerful, despite it. Or maybe because of it. Peter fixed it, and then took him into the bathroom to wet his unruly hair down so it could be combed.

“We’re going to have a lot of fun,” he told his son, looking at his reflection in the mirror. “Make sure you let me know if you see anything that you want to do that we didn’t discuss, already. Alright?”

Parker nodded, taking the comb and using it on Peter, who rolled his eyes, good-naturedly, and somehow managed to let his son groom him, and still avoided being poked in the eye with the comb on more than one occasion.

><><><><>

And now here they were: just finishing breakfast and ready to go out and see what Disney had to offer a superhero, a writer, and a three-and-a-half-year-old.

“Have you ever been here?” Peter asked Tony while the younger man was wiping Parker’s face with a wet washcloth, and the boy was amusing himself making motorboat noises.

“No. You?”

“A long time ago. May and Ben took me. There is a lot more to do, now, though.” He looked at Parker. “Ready?”

The little boy nodded, his brown eyes excited.

“Let’s go, then.”


	45. 45

_“I thought you were on vacation…?”_

Tony nodded, frowning at the image of Natasha Romanoff on the 3D screen of his phone.

“I am.”

_“Then why do you look so tired?”_

“Because I’ve spent the last four days chasing a little boy around Disneyland,” was the answer. “It’s _exhausting_.”

A lot of _fun_ , though, he added, silently.

The assassin didn’t look too sorry for him. Probably, he decided, she knew that he was enjoying himself. Which he _was_.

He and Peter had been spending their days out in the park where Parker Parker had met probably every Disney character from every movie that the company had ever made – and _then some_. Mornings were spent riding rides, while the time _after_ lunch was more for time spent looking at the many attractions that were there. Even with the limited attention span of the little boy, there was always something that was interesting to see – and they still had more than half the park to wander through. If they lasted that long.

At the end of the day, when they were all dragging a little, they would head back to the hotel and have dinner. After that first day where they’d eaten in Peter’s suite, they ate their dinners at one of the very nice restaurants in the hotel. Then they would head up to the rooms and decompress after what was always a long day.

Parker would be put into pajamas and settled between the two men while they watched a movie, allowing him a chance to relax. Invariably, he would fall asleep and be put to bed. Then Peter and Tony would sit on the couch, comfortably, with Peter working on sketches, or on the story line for his new Jack and Snaps book, and Tony would pull out his tablet and look through emails or texts that he might have missed throughout the day. Sometimes Peter would set his work aside and stretch out, putting his head in Tony’s lap, in a not so subtle bid to be touched, and the billionaire would comply, caressing his cheek, brushing his fingers, lovingly, through Peter’s hair, or simply resting a hand on his arm, or his side.

Sometimes Peter would fall asleep, worn out by the day’s activities, but he and Tony would always end up in his bed. _Fully clothed_ , of course, in deference to the fact that there was always a chance that Parker could come join them in the bed in the middle of the night. Since the little boy hadn’t freaked out to find Tony and Peter sleeping on the couch that first morning, though, Peter had somewhat diffidently suggested that Tony move his things from the rooms next door and simply stay with them – reminding him, though, that there couldn’t be any serious fooling around.

Tony had agreed. He actually thought that it wasn’t a bad idea that the two of them ease back into the physical side of their relationship, and Peter agreed. There was no hurry, after all.

Besides, by the evening of their third full day at the park, both men were simply too tired to do more than collapse on the sofa – and then in bed – and sleep.

_“You’re coming home on Saturday?”_ Romanoff asked.

“That was the original plan,” he replied. “But with Parker talking, his grandmother is anxious to have him home so she can hear it for herself. Peter might be going home early – and if he does, I’m certainly not staying here, alone.”

Which made her smile.

_“When are you going to invite them out to the compound, again?”_

Which made _Tony_ smile, too, because there was no real reason for them to be invited. He hadn’t told any of the avengers about the secret Peter was hiding – and didn’t intend to do so – which meant that they just wanted to see Parker, again, most likely. Which was fine, really, as long as Peter was good with it. They’d had a lot of conversations while sitting next to each other the last few evenings after Parker had fallen asleep, but none of them were concerning their own future. Something that Tony intended to bring up, but not until he had Peter alone to avoid distractions of any kind.

They did talk about Peter’s next fanfiction story, but the young man hadn’t decided what his next premise was going to be.

“I’ll see what Peter says,” he promised. “Maybe in a couple of weeks for an overnight?”

_“That would be nice. Let me know.”_

He had a feeling that she was looking forward to having young Parker Parker call her by name.

“I will. Everything going alright?”

_“Yes.”_ She smiled. _“We were just checking up on you.”_

‘I’m fine. Thank you.”

_“Good night. Tell Peter hi and hug Parker for me.”_

“Will do.”

The call ended, and as it did, Tony felt a hand slide along his shoulder.

“ _Will do_ what?” Peter asked, leaning over the back of the couch as Tony put his phone on the coffee table.

“I’m supposed to tell you Romanoff says hi and I’m supposed to hug Parker for her.”

The younger man smiled.

“That’s nice.”

“Your wholesomeness must be rubbing off on the rest of us.”

Peter came around to the other side of the sofa and took the spot beside Tony, and this time it was the older man who leaned against him seeking a caress, or two. Which was given without hesitation.

“How do you feel?” Peter asked.

“Sleepy.”

“So am I.” He brushed his hand along Tony’s forearm, before putting his arms around him and bringing Tony’s cheek down to rest on his shoulder. “Disney is a lot more work than I thought it would be.”

Stark chuckled and closed his eyes, relaxing utterly in Peter’s embrace.

“Yeah. Did you talk to Angie?”

“Mmh-hmm… I think we’ll leave early, She’s eager to have Parker come stay for a day, or two.”

“Is it bad form for me to say I’m looking forward to that, too?” Tony asked, sleepily.

Peter chuckled.

“No. I am, too.”

“When do you want to go, honey?” Tony asked. “I’ll send for the jet.”

“Is tomorrow after lunch enough notice?”

“Of course.”

“That will give Parker a chance to have one more go on the rides that he enjoyed the most, and we can get any souvenirs we might have missed the last few days.”

“I don’t think we’ve missed any,” Tony pointed out. “But I’m good with that.”

“Let’s go to bed.”

“Yeah.”

He’d call the pilot on the way, though. Just to make sure there weren’t any delays, or issues.

They walked into the bedroom and Tony held the blankets back, waiting for Peter to get under them before he joined the younger man, and now he was the one who pulled Peter up against his heavier body, an arm going around him, lightly.

“Thanks for coming, Tony,” Peter said, sleepily. “It was going to be fun, anyway, but it was much more enjoyable with the added company.”

Tony smiled, feeling about as content as he could ever remember feeling. He brushed a kiss against Peter’s ear and then maneuvering their positions so Peter was somewhat resting on him, like a warm, living blanket. The younger man murmured his approval, and brought his leg over Tony’s, possessively.

“I think you’re just glad you had help with Parker,” he teased, sliding a hand along Peter’s hip, but not moving it under the fabric of his pajamas like he wanted to do. “That little boy has more energy than the two of us, combined.”

“True.”

“Go to sleep, honey,” Tony crooned. “He’s going to be up, early, wanting to eat so he can get back out there.”

Seeing the truth in that, Peter smiled, and closed his eyes, wallowing in the sensation of being held and melting against the older man’s embrace.

“Night…”

“I love you.”

The smile broadened, even though Tony couldn’t see it. He said it often, now, and Peter never heard it enough.

“I love you, too.”


	46. 46

The fight home was even more relaxing and posh than the flight to Florida, and that had been pretty nice as far as Peter was concerned.

It began with a limousine out in front of the hotel when they were ready to check out, just after lunch. Hotel staff carried their bags, never even hinting that they knew who Tony was – although they had to have recognized him. The drive to the airport took a little longer, since they were taken to a private airfield that was further away from the hotel, but that was fine, too. There was a lone, sleek, jet waiting on the tarmac and Parker made an excited noise when they pulled up and were met at the car and were greeted by the pilot, copilot and the stewardess. Peter watched as the little boy was escorted to the cockpit and made much of by the pilot, who let him sit in the seat and hold the stick, but reminded him not to touch any buttons. Parker grinned, excitedly, pretending to fly the plane and accompanying that motion with whooshing noises that were almost certainly supposed to be jet engines.

After a few minutes, the pilot took his seat back, but the copilot then handed the little guy a small replica of the jet itself, and a metal pair of pilot wings, which they clipped onto Parker’s Mickey Mouse t-shirt.

Parker ran over to show it all to Peter and Tony, who had already seated themselves in the plush leather seats, facing each other. Peter was holding a cup of coffee and the stewardess had handed Tony a glass of wine.

“That’s _amazing_ ,” Peter told Parker, admiring the jet, first, and then the wings. “Now we know who to have fly the plane in an emergency.”

Pleased with himself, the boy climbed into his seat, smiling at the stewardess as she buckled him in and then offered him a small bag that was filled with activities. As the jet taxied out to the end of the runway, Parker was already pulling out crayons, a coloring book, and some little figurine action figures – all of whom happened to be avengers. There was also an array of snacks; pretzels, cookies, and dried fruit slices.

“Hang on, buddy,” Tony said, smiling over at the boy, who did as he was told, taking the warning literally and clutching the armrests of his seat as they took off at a much steeper rate of ascent than the big commercial airplane had.

Parker grinned in delight at the sensation, proving that he wasn’t prone to motion sickness – which was a relief to both men, of course – and then turned his attention back to the toys that he’d been given, ignoring the backpack that Peter had filled with activities for him before they’d left the hotel.

The younger man turned to Tony, his brown eyes filled with good humor.

“They don’t have a goody bag for _us_?”

“Of course, they do.” Stark waved at the flight attendant, who nodded, and ducked behind a wooden panel for just a moment, returning with a couple of small leather satchels, which she handed to the billionaire. “Red or green?” he asked Peter, holding them up.

The handles were the only differences in the two bags. One was red, and one was green.

“Green.”

They both turned out to have pretty much the same things. A padded sleeping mask, an inflatable neck pillow, a tablet that Peter found was loaded with e-books of every genre, toiletries like a toothbrush, paste, and a comb, even, and a deck of cards.

“Are you going to read?” Tony asked. “Or sleep?”

“I’m going to keep an eye on Parker,” he replied. “But you can get some rest, if you’re tired.”

“No. I’m fine. Cards?”

Peter smiled, because he knew that Tony _was_ tired, and was just staying awake to keep him company.

“That sounds good.”

It would also make the flight go by that much quicker.

><><>><><><>

“Do you need help with him?”

Peter smiled, but he shook his head and looked at the boy who was asleep in his arms. Parker had been wide awake during most of the flight home, but had fallen asleep after he’d been fed an early dinner and had climbed up into Tony’s lap to cuddle while the billionaire and Peter had made small talk over a last cup of coffee. The meal had been excellent, and Tony found that he always felt just a little soft inside when Parker came to him for cuddling. He sifted his fingers through the little boy’s curls while talking to Peter, and by the time they were preparing for landing, the little guy was so sound asleep that he didn’t wake up when they buckled him back into his own seat for the landing.

He didn’t wake as Peter carried him off the plane to the car that was waiting for them, either, and he was still asleep when it pulled up to the small house, and now it was getting dark. Tony and the driver carried the baggage (there was considerably more than they’d left home with, now) and Peter had carried Parker. The driver set the heavy bags just inside the front door and politely went to wait outside by the car for Tony, who was going to go home and give Peter and Parker a chance to have a nice, quiet, evening alone.

One that was going to involve going to bed early – at least for Parker.

“No. I’m good.” The younger man shifted Parker in his arms, freeing a hand, which he ran along Stark’s chest, feeling the housing for his nanotech, and then down to his stomach. “Thank you,” he said. “I had fun – and I know Parker did. More fun than if it had only been the two of us.”

“I enjoyed it, honey.” Tony kissed him, tenderly, and then moved even closer and brushed a kiss against the sleeping boy’s cheek, as well. Parker made a soft, contented, noise, but didn’t wake. He was worn out, and rightfully so. “I’m going to go home and sleep for a week.”

Peter smiled, again.

“Can I call you, _tomorrow_?” he asked. “Or do I wait a week?”

“I’ll die if you make me wait that long to see you, again,” the older man said, smiling. “Call me any time. Anything.”

“I’ll let you know what my schedule looks like,” Peter told him.

“You do that.”

Tony kissed him again, and then left, closing the door behind him. Peter hugged his son, and then carried him into Parker’s bedroom. Sleeping kids weren’t easy to undress and change into pajamas, but the young man was an expert by then. He put Parker to bed, and then went out into the living room, stopping at the kitchen long enough to start a pot of coffee before pulling out his phone. His first action as he sat down on the couch was to text Tony. Nothing fancy, or profound, just a happy face. The reply was immediate, and Peter smiled at the simple _I love you_ that popped up.

He forced himself to change screens, though, and placed a call to Angie, to let her know that they were home, and ask her if she wanted Parker the next day, or had she made other plans.

Then he’d be able to tell Tony what his weekend schedule looked like so they could make plans, too. Unless he was going to busy.


	47. 47

It ended up being two days before they had a chance to get together.

Not because of Peter’s schedule, but because of _Tony’s_. Taking off with such little notice had left Pepper to run a couple of meetings that had required votes among those attending, and while Tony had left a memo saying that he backed her vote fully with his own, there were still a few conclusions that had been reached that required his attention. Of course, while he agreed with all of the decisions that she’d made, he had to sign off on them, as well, and that meant actually going in and working.

Peter didn’t mind, he was quick to assure Tony when the billionaire called him to let him know why he wasn’t going to be able to spend that first day back with him. It would give him time to do laundry and get everything unpacked and all the souvenirs handed out to various family members and friends. Tony had promised to make it up to him by having him for dinner at the apartment.

“And not the cannibal way,” he’d said, making Peter smile.

“When do you want me there?” Peter had asked.

“Whenever is good for you.”

Driving to Tony’s place was easier, now. The older man had freed up the parking spot next to his own and it was now exclusively reserved for Peter. Peter had told him that it wasn’t necessary, but Tony had shrugged it off, simply saying that it was more convenient for _him_ , that way. It was definitely more convenient for _Peter_ , the younger man thought as he pulled into the prime parking spot and smiled at the sign that kept others from parking there. He locked his car, despite the extraordinary security in the place, and went to the elevator, knowing that FRIDAY would tell Tony that he was on his way up.

He heard the mag lock click open as he walked up to the door, but he knocked, anyway, because that was what was polite people did at someone’s door.

“Come in!”

He opened the door, walking in and closing it behind him, hearing the lock click as FRIDAY secured the apartment. Peter frowned, though. The apartment looked the same, really; everything was where it was supposed to be, and there was a fire in the gas fireplace, even though it was a fairly nice evening that didn’t require extra heat. It was for ambiance he knew was what Tony would tell him. The older man was standing by the kitchen island, wearing a French maid’s outfit that might have looked amazing on a curvy woman, but did very little for Tony Stark.

“You’re here,” Tony said, walking over, and looking a little uncomfortable. “Good. Come sit down.”

“Why are you _wearing_ that?” Peter asked, curiously. “What-“

“It’s part of my _make up to Peter for being such as asshole to_ _him_ plan,” Tony told him, taking Peter’s hand and leading him over to the sofa. The younger man saw that there was a blanket draped over the leather, and on the coffee table was a bowl of grapes. “Sit down, honey.”

He did as he was told, but frowned up at Tony.

“You’re dressed in drag to make up for being an asshole to me?”

“Yes.” Stark sat down, too, the skirt making things awkward for him as he tried to turn to face Peter. “Remember that conversation?” he asked. “What would Tony Stark do to make it right?”

“Remind me…”

He _did_ , but it was so crazy that he couldn’t really believe Tony had.

“Wait on you hand and foot,” Tony said, leaning over and brushing a kiss against Peter’s jaw, and then trailing a few more gentle kisses along his neck, to his ear – which was one of the more sensitive spots for Peter, and Tony knew it. “At my apartment. Dressed in a sexy French maid’s outfit.”

“And you’ll feed me grapes…” Peter said, suddenly breathless as Tony’s hand began to wander along his chest, and then his stomach – and _lower_.

“Right…” the older man murmured, his tongue delving into Peter’s ear and then his lips sucking on the sensitive earlobe for a moment. “And then pleasure you, orally, in between doing the dishes and vacuuming.”

“You're going to vacuum?” Peter asked, lifting his chin, and then his arms when Tony pulled his shirt off.

“No.” Tony kissed his collarbone, and then found a nipple to tease for a moment. “I’m out of dishes, too,” he said. “So it’s just pleasuring you, orally,” he said, finding the other nipple. “You’re good with that, right?”

He did actually pause, his hand on the button to Peter’s slacks, waiting – although he was still nibbling on the delicate skin of Peter’s chest.

“Yeah.” Peter ran his hand along the silk front of the dress that Tony was wearing. “Take that off, though, will you? It’s distracting me.”

“We can’t have that,” Tony told him, leaning back enough to allow him to pull the dress up and over, which left him in only a pair of silk boxers. “I want you only thinking of me, right now.”

“Sounds good.”

Tony took that as permission – which it _was_ , of course – and undid Peter’s pants, pulling the zipper down, slowly, but then making short work of having the younger man lift up so he could take slacks and briefs down in one motion. He pulled Peter’s shoes and socks and left the clothing in a crumpled heap on the floor under the coffee table, and kissed Peter, lovingly, while his hand found his cock and he began stroking it, waking it to his attentions and making a pleased noise into their kisses when Peter began to harden, filling his hand, nicely, and then some.

“You’re so amazing, Peter,” he crooned, pressing against him so Peter leaned back, laying on the couch, but shifting so his legs were open to allow Tony to move between them. “So perfect for me.”

“Tony…” There was something to be said for that kind of praise. Peter loved it when Tony spoke to him like that, and it made him even more excited. But he was anxious and eager. It had been a long time for him, and he wanted the pleasure that Tony’s touch and their position was promising him. “Please, baby…”

The billionaire chuckled, understanding, completely. He kissed Peter, soundly, and then moved lower, his hands nudging Peter’s legs further apart, and his mouth taking his cock in, slowly, engulfing him in wet, hot, warmth, as he tasted his lover for the first time in too long a time. Peter groaned in pleasure, and Tony felt his heart flutter with happiness at the sound. He watched the younger man’s face as he started to suck him, deepthroating him one moment, and teasing just the head the next. His hand braced his weight, while the other fondled Peter’s balls one moment, and stroked whatever part of his shaft Tony wasn’t devouring, the next.

“Yes,” Peter moaned. His hand went to Tony’s head, his fingers caressing the man’s thick hair, forcing himself not to grab hold and force himself deeper. “That’s so good, Tony. You’re so good at that. Suck me… more… fuck…”

Urged on by the words – and the tone – Tony did as he was told. He hummed against Peter’s most sensitive skin as he sucked him down, and clenched his throat at just the right moments. Peter’s hips were lifting, now, as he drew ever closer to his climax, and Tony was relentless, not allowing him to lose any contact with his mouth, even when he pulled back to tease the tip of Peter’s cock and lavish attention on the underside of the head.

Peter’s gasp of pleasure and the tightening of his entire body was plenty of warning, and Tony wrapped his hand around the shaft once more, stroking Peter’s cock as he came, his body arching up and releasing into Tony’s eager mouth.

The billionaire made a pleased noise, but it wasn’t even close to as satisfied as the one that came from the young man under him. Peter ran his fingers through Tony’s hair, and looked down at him, savoring the sight of Tony stark between his legs with his cock in his mouth.

“Jesus… that was so good.”

Tony slurped his way along the shaft of Peter’s cock, once more, before lifting off, and moving to kiss Peter, hard, on the lips.

“You taste so good.”

“God.” He wrapped his arms around Tony, holding him as he came down from his climax and his body relaxed, once more. The other man’s weight was resting comfortably on top of him, and Tony didn’t seem to be in any hurry to do anything but be with him, despite the hard flesh that Peter could feel throbbing against his belly, separated from his skin by only the thin fabric of Tony’s boxers. “I missed you, Tony.”

“I missed you, too, honey.” He pressed a kiss against Peter’s cheek, sighing, softly, in his ear the next moment. “Should I feed you some grapes, now?”

Peter chuckled.

“No. Something else, instead.”

“Not, yet. I want tonight to be about you. I want you to feel special. And wanted. And loved. Because you are.”

“And you called me a romantic?” Peter said, smiling. He slid his hand along Tony’s bare side, caressing as he roamed the bigger man’s upper body. “Tonight should be about _us_.”

“If you’re sure…”

Like he was going to complain? Peter’s hand came between them, and Tony was the one to make the approving noise as his lover’s hand went into the front of his underwear and wrapped those talented fingers around him and pumped, experimentally, a few times.

“I’m sure.”

“Fuck…”

Peter chuckled.

“And then, tomorrow, you can come mow my lawn.”

“What?”

“It needs mowed, and the kid across the street is on vacation. You said you were going to wait on me hand and foot.”

“ _Tonight_.”

“You called me a _mutant_.”

The way he said it made Tony smile down at him.

“Are you planning on using that against me every time you want me to do something?”

“I might.”

“Fine. I’ll mow your lawn.”

“It pays $10.”

“And I get to take you to bed, after.”

Peter nodded, his hand still working Tony.

“That could be arranged.”

The older man bent his head, pressing his lips against Peter’s shoulder as he began to move his hips in the same rhythm as Peter’s strokes.

“Deal.”


	48. 48

The sound of the motor in the lawnmower turning off drew Peter out of the house and to the front porch, and he reached it just as Tony walked up the three steps that led to it.

“This sucks donkey balls.”

Peter smiled. Tony was sweaty and disheveled in the morning sun, but Peter thought he looked amazing.

“I made lemonade.”

Tony rolled his eyes.

“That _isn’t_ going to make me feel better.”

“It isn’t supposed to.”

“You’re just trying to feel less guilty about making me mow your lawn.”

The younger man smirked, walking toward the small table and two patio chairs where he’d put a pitcher of lemonade and even a plate with some slices of coffee cake.

“The thing is _self-propelled_ ,” he reminded Tony. “It’s not like you’re pushing it all over the yard.”

And the yard wasn’t _that_ big, really.

“That isn’t the point.” Tony sat down with a sigh of long suffering that only made Peter smile at his dramatics. “I’m _Ironman_ , not Yardboy.”

“So you’re too good to mow my yard?”

“No. I’m too good to mow anyone _else’s_ yard. I love you, and I will mow your lawn, to prove it to you. But next time I’m going to outsource to the kid across the street.”

Peter poured Tony a glass of lemonade.

“Are you going to _be_ here, next time?”

The billionaire hesitated, realizing that Peter wasn’t challenging him, or anything. He was just indicating that he was ready to have the serious sit down discussion that both of them knew they needed to have. He took a long drink of his lemonade before setting it aside.

“Am I in this relationship for the long haul, you mean?”

“Yes.” Peter had to know. “Don’t get me wrong,” he added. “I’m enjoying what we have, now, and I’m not trying to pressure you for more than you’re interested in committing to. But I have _Parker_ to consider, and he already really, _really_ , likes you. If we’re just engaged in a fling, I want to do what I can to keep him from being too upset when it eventually ends.”

“I can understand that,” the billionaire said. “Tell me what you want, honey. Then I’ll tell you what I want, and we’ll see where we meet in things.”

“I want a physical relationship with you,” Peter said. “And a _commitment_.” He smiled, realizing that he’d just told the other man that he wasn’t pressuring him for a commitment, and had then sort of said just that. “I know Tony Stark isn’t the _marrying_ type,” he added. Tony had said it more than once, after all. “I don’t need to be Peter Parker-Stark, or anything. But I _do_ need him to be the _boyfriend_ type. Willing to be seen out in public, and – as you know – only mine.”

“I’m already only yours, Peter,” Tony told him. “You know that.” He shrugged. “I know I have the reputation for being a playboy – and rightfully so – but there hasn’t been anyone else since we’ve met, and I don’t want there to be anyone else. I do love you,” he added. “And I love Parker. I’m not ready to propose, or anything,” he agreed. “But I’m ready to be in a stable relationship with you – and with Parker. You can move into my apartment with me, or I can move in with you guys – as long as you’re willing to allow FRIDAY and my robots to come, too.”

“Parker needs a yard,” Peter said. “It’s the reason I moved us out here, in the first place.”

“I agree.”

The park was great, Tony knew (mainly because he’d had the discussion with Peter, before) because it allowed Parker to play with all of the toys, and to interact with other children and people. But it was also a good thing for the boy to have his own yard to play in, too. As long as they were fenced, Tony added mentally. He knew Peter wouldn’t risk his son accidentally chasing a ball that was rolling into the street and maybe have something happen to the boy. Tony wouldn’t risk that, either.

“You’d move to the suburbs?”

“If that was what you and Parker needed, yes.” He smiled at Peter’s surprise. “But I’m not mowing the lawn, again.”

The younger man smiled, too.

“That’s fine.” He hesitated, then. “What about my… abilities…?”

They hadn’t actually discussed the topic that was the whole reason for their short but painful estrangement, but Peter needed to know where Tony stood on that, as well.

“What about them?”

“Who knows what I can do?”

Meaning who did Tony tell.

“You know,” Tony said. “And I know.”

Peter was surprised, and didn’t try to hide it.

“You didn’t tell anyone?”

“No, honey. I _wanted_ to, though, I’ll admit. It’s still incredible to me.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because you clearly didn’t want anyone to know.” Peter had seemed so afraid – before he’d become angry – and Tony hadn’t been able to ignore that. Or forget the troubled expression in his beautiful eyes. “If it was that important to you, then I couldn’t.”

It would have been one of those irrevocable acts that would have, possibly, pushed their relationship to a point of no return and Tony had known it, instinctively.

“Oh.”

“But it doesn’t make it any less amazing,” he added. “I’d want to tell the world if I could do what you can do.”

“It’s not something I want the world to know. Not even Parker, if I can keep it a secret from him as he grows older.”

Now it was Stark who hesitated.

“You had these abilities when you conceived him, right?”

“Yes.” Peter knew what was coming, and didn’t shy from it. “And, no. I don’t know if it’s something that he might have inherited from me. I don’t know how I could possibly have had him tested for any abnormality without explaining what my concerns were. So far he doesn’t seem to be able to do anything I can, so I’m just going to hope for the best.”

“We could check him out,” Tony offered. “Later. When he’s older and if you still have any concerns.”

Peter nodded.

“It’s something to think about.”

“But not _today_ ,” Tony told him, deciding that their discussion about the future was done, for now, and he was definitely ready to change the tone of their day. “I’m sweaty and done being a domestic laborer.”

“Fair enough. I’ve probably gotten my ten dollars worth of work out of you, anyway. Put the mower in the shed, and I’ll take the lemonade inside.”

“And you’ll wash my back when I take a shower…” the older man added, his expression changing, subtly, as his mind turned to other activities.

Subtle, yes, but not missed on Peter, who nodded, standing up and running his hand along Tony’s shoulder, kneading it, lightly.

“That could be arranged. Angie’s going to bring Parker home, tomorrow afternoon, so you have me all to yourself for the rest of the day.”

“And part of tomorrow.”

“As much as you want – aside from when I do laundry.”

“I’m not folding your stupid sheets.”

“I know, baby.”

“I’ll meet you inside.”

“Sounds good.”


	49. Epilogue

“Well?”

Tony smiled.

“Well, what?”

“How do I look?”

“Like a famous writer on his way to the premier of his first feature film.”

Peter smiled, too, brushing the sleeve of the very expensive suit jacket that he was wearing. The occasion wasn’t formal enough for a _tuxedo_ , but it was formal enough that Tony had insisted that he and Parker both spend a morning at his tailor, getting fitted for appropriate attire.

The Jack and Snaps movie had been approved, and in typical Disney fashion, the story had been started, immediately. The boy and his incredible dog were going to have an epic journey through the jungles of Africa as they searched for the lost sister of a mighty king and had an exciting adventure as only Disney could make it. Peter had been busy, initially, when the storyline was sketched out and he’d been brought in to read it and give his agreement, per their contract. The young man had been impressed, and excited to see the story turn into a movie, and animators and technicians of all kinds had spent a couple of days with him, while he showed them his style of drawing the main characters – to keep it authentic – and then he’d been allowed to step back and watch as those professionals started taking the story and turning it into what was promising to be an immediate classic.

And a money maker, of course, for Disney _and_ for Peter.

Famous actors and actresses were signed to voice all the characters, and the Oscar winning actress voicing Snaps, and the young up and coming actor voicing Jack had spent a day at Peter’s house, discussing with the writer just how the little dog thought, and how the boy would react to her ideas. They both asked what Peter, himself, wanted to see them do in their portrayal of his now famous creations. Peter had been awed, of course, and the actress had been gracious. It didn’t hurt that she fell in love with Parker, immediately, of course, and happened to be a fangirl (although she didn’t want it to be public) of Ironman. Tony had promised to stay out of the way of their day, but had ended up invited to watch, and even put in his own thoughts. The young actor had asked for autographs and pictures, and while Tony looked apologetic, Peter hadn’t minded or felt slighted in the least – and was quick to reassure with a smile.

After that meeting, Peter had once more been freed from any technical advisor role and able to work on his own projects. The biggest, of course, was _Parker_. His little boy was still speaking. Not a lot, but with growing frequency. He was seeing a speech therapist twice a week and the words were coming faster and more comfortably for him. He was thriving, now, with his father and Tony a constant presence in his days, and his grandmas, grandpas, aunts and uncle there to spend time with him and support him, and the Avengers always willing to have him (and Peter) out to the compound for a day, or a weekend.

Parker’s fourth birthday had been celebrated at the house, and had been filled to almost bursting with relatives, Avengers and some of the neighbors, all there to have a good time with him. There had been a bouncy house (temporarily) installed in the front yard, and a barbeque set up in the back. Presents galore for the little boy, and a huge cake with gallons of ice cream to be served to all of the guests.

Tony had set up the party, after all, and he didn’t do anything little.

Peter’s relationship with Tony was another project, of sorts, and was just as satisfying for both of them. Their relationship hadn’t been officially announced to the press (it wasn’t any of their _business_ , Tony had pointed out) but there was no doubt that the two were an item, since many times when Tony Stark was seen out in public during his nonworking hours, he was often hand in hand with Peter, and usually they had Parker, as well. The press had initially hounded the couple – and the little boy – often following them for pictures and soundbites and anything else that they could. It was a zoo, and the shouted questions were impossible to answer, even if they wanted to do so. It had come to a head when a member of the paparazzi had come too close in his eagerness to get the perfect photo of the three together, had stumbled into Parker and had frightened the little boy, upset Peter, and made Tony furious.

SHIELD was suddenly involved, and the indomitable Natasha Romanoff made a not-so-subtle comment that she was very good at hiding bodies. The press – and the less official paparazzi – weren’t _quite_ willing to believe the unsaid threat, but they weren’t stupid, either, and none of them wanted to test Romanoff. Steve Rogers wouldn’t dream of saying something like that to the general public, but even though Romanoff’s history was elusive, there was no doubt that she was dangerous – and maybe a little unpredictable. The crowds surrounding Tony and Peter were suddenly gone, and they were allowed a little space.

The younger man’s last project was the newest book that he was writing. True, he was making a lot of money from the Disney deal, and that was great, of course, but he still wrote (he was writing a new _fanfiction story_ , when he had time, also) and the Jack and Snaps go the moon story was at the publisher’s, now, and the release was close to coinciding with the premier of the movie, This would make more money for Disney, for Peter, and for everyone else involved with the marketing. Peter couldn’t stop writing, and with Tony encouraging him to do whatever he wanted, and sitting in bed with him at night, leaning against him as he wrote, or sketched, or sometimes just threw ideas at him, the stories would almost certainly keep coming.

Disney was already talking about the next movie in their contracted trilogy, and Peter had been amused when the executives had pointed to the young writer’s association with the Avengers and Tony Stark, specifically, and had asked what the chances were that Jack and Snaps might have an Avengers adventure. Tony had scowled when Peter brought it up, saying it was just the company using them to make even more money, but Peter knew Tony well enough to know that the idea was growing on him. Of _course_. Ironman in a movie? With the Avengers around him? All looking heroic? Of course he might be a little interested. Getting the _others_ to agree, on the other hand, might be a little trickier.

Tony had mentioned that maybe they’d have _Parker_ ask, one of the weekends that they were out at the compound and the little boy was nestled in Romanoff’s lap, cuddling. Parker could get Natasha to do anything and they all knew it – including her.

“Everyone else is meeting us there?” Peter asked, breaking out of his thoughts, and smiling, slightly nervously.

“Yeah, honey.” Tony smiled, trying to bolster him a little with the action – and a hand on his arm. “They’re already there.”

The Avengers were coming to the premier. Clint was bringing his kids, and they were almost as excited as Clint was to see the new movie – although the archer wouldn’t admit it. Peter’s aunt and uncle, Parker’s grandparents, and aunts and uncle and a host of friends had all been invited, as well. They wouldn’t be on the red carpet with the celebrities who were voicing the characters, or the producers, and the directors, but they would be there for Peter’s big day, just like Tony was. Just like Tony _always_ was, now. He was committed to Peter and to Parker, and thoroughly satisfied with the life that he was living with the younger man

Even out in the suburbs. If someone had told him a year ago that he’d be living outside of the bustling city that he loved so much, with a guy who had a little kid, Tony would have snorted, derisively, and pushed him out of the car, or something. But that was where the limo had picked them up, wasn’t it? The little house was cozy, and warm, and filled with a domestic fluff that rivalled anything that Peter ever could have written in one of his fan fiction stories.

The place also featured FRIDAY in the systems – which was convenient for nights when Tony and Peter wanted to be intimate once Parker had been put to bed. Some modifications had definitely been in order, like sound-proofing their bedroom, and making sure there was a large bucket to put legos and hot wheels in to avoid stepping on them in the dark, but the place was comfortable for Tony, the robots, and was well worth the extra time that it took for him to get to the tower each day.

He casually slid his hand into his pocket, once more double-checking that the small velvet-covered box was still there, before he reached for Peter’s hand, smiling at him before they both turned to watch Parker, who was so handsome in his little suit, and had his head turned to watch as they grew closer to the grand theater where the premier was being held. Time enough to get Peter alone, later.

“You good?” Peter asked Tony, squeezing his hand as if he realized that the older man was somewhat distracted.

“I’m great, honey. You?”

“Yes. Everything’s wonderful.”

Tony couldn’t agree more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End!
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hoped you all enjoyed it. Thanks for all the kudos and the reviews - I love hearing your thoughts.  
> So with the holidays upon us, I'm not going to start another actual story, for a bit. What I am going to do is write some time stamps for previous stories that I've written, and I'm willing to take requests. You can put them in the reviews for this story if you want, or if you're in a discord that I'm in, you can put it there, or head to my patreon and post something there.   
> Thanks guys, I enjoyed writing it


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